A Bachelor Girl in Burma

/\ F.\MII.\' C:l<OUI', MOUi.MEiN !p.
681
A BACHELOR GIRL
IN BURMA
BY
G. E. MITTON
AUTHOR OF." A BACHELOR GIRL IN LONDON"
" JANE AUSTEN AND HER TIMES,'' ETC,
CONTAINING NINETY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS

FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1907
AUTHOR'S NOTE
IN explanation of the title, l must state that bachelor

girls are scarce in Burma. I was sitting one evening in
the gymkhana club at Rangoon between two married
ladies. We had all three been enlarging on the fascina
tion of the land and the delights of being there, when
one of them broke out abruptly, " How lucky you are !
You travel about and see it all, and yet you are free.
Mrs. R. and I had to get married to come here ! "
This is one way of looking at it.
For another, see p: 55.
This is not a book-" on Burma." The touching con
fidence of friends in my ability was shown by repeated
queries as to whether I was going to" do" a book" on
Burma" after I had been there two months. There is no
doubt, of course, that I could have written a complete
and exhaustive account of the people and the land,
including all the wild tribes of the north, without
knowing a single word of their languages--these things
come so much by intuition-but I preferred to save the
said friends the brain-work such a course would entail,
so have written a book which cannot be said to be" on"
VI AUTHOR'S NOTE
anything unless it be "on the surface." I have put
down what I saw and what I did, and fear that "I " is
writ large over all the pages. I saw things and heard
things and they amused me, I told them to others and
they amused them, and so I have written them down
on paper in the hope they may amuse even those I do
not know personally. I have refrained from generalising
on the basis of one example, and when a bit of history
is absolutely necessary I have taken it straight from the
pages of the best authority I know-with quotation
marks.
The book, such as it is, owes · its genesis entirely to
the suggestion and encouragement of Mrs. Percival
Marshall of Moulmein, without whose kindness and
hospitality I could never have gone to Burma. It was
also through her that I gained a little peep behind the
scenes into the ways of the Burmese ladies in their
everyday life; for many persons who have lived for
years in Burma do not know a single Burman on social
terms.
I have to mention also with warm gratitude the
sympathetic help I received from the Lieutenant
Governor, Sir Herbert Thirkell White, K.C.I.E., and
Lady Thirkell White, by whose kindness I was enabled
to penetrate beyond the beaten tracks and to do much
that would have been quite impossible otherwise.
As for the illustrations of the book, many friends have
lent me photographs to supplement my own. I must
AUTHOR'S NOTE vii
·acknowledge with thanks those of Mr. Sydney H.
Reynolds, who is responsible for no fewer than twelve;
that on p. 96 taken by Mr. J. MacGeorge, of
Moulmein; that on p. 181 by Mrs. Bingham, and that
on p. 193 by Captain J. H. Brunskill, R. A. M. C.
When not otherwise stated, the illustrations are, with
one exception, from my own photos, taken by a No. 4
cartridge kodak. The results show how much may be
done with a good camera even by a complete amateur.
G. E. MITTON.
CONTENTS
CRAP. PAGE
I. THE LAND OF PROMISE
II. THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST 16

III. BuRMESE LADIES AT HoME 40
IV. wANDERINGS IN MouLMEIN 61
V. BuDDHAS AND BATS 91
VI. THE RoAD TO MANDALAY. llO
VII. THE GOLDEN CITY 125

VIII. To THE FAR NoRTH 149
IX. THE WAY TO CHINA 157
X. THE UPPER DEFILE 172
XI. A TIGER SCARE 187
XII. CHINNASAWMY AND ALL THAT HE DID 199
XIII. PwEs 211
XIV. ON A CARGO BoAT 221
xv. THE CpARM OF THE IRRAWADDY 235
EPILOGUE . 258
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A Family Group, Moulmein Front'ispiece
A Chuprassie outside Government House, Rangoon 20
A Corner in the Shwe Dagon Pagoda 21
Nun and Monk at the Shwe Dagon Pagoda 24
An Image of the Buddha , 25
In the Courts of the Shwe Dagon Pagoda 32
Sacred Umbrellas, Shwe Dagon Pagoda 33
A Group of Shrines, Shwe Dagon Pagoda 36
On the Steps of a Shrine, Shwe Dagon Pagoda . 37
The Gamester . 40
Mah Kin Le and Daughter 41
Mah Shwe Bwin 48
Mah Shwe Bwin at the Door of her Shrine 49
Two better-class Burmese Girls 52
Main Street, Moulmein 53
The Boy and the Bell, O]d Pagoda, Moulmein 56
Scenes in the Life of the Buddha, Old Pagoda, Moulmein 57
A Burmese Burial Place, Moulmein 64
Moung Ka in his Bullock Cart 65
Native Quarters, Moulmein 68
Unfinished Pagoda, Moulmein 69
Our Coolie Outside the Bazaar, Moulmein 72
Burmese Girl in Bazaar, Moulmein 73
· Sadaw Lying in State, Moulmein 80
Burmese Girls at the S.P.G. School, Moulmein 81
A Female E]ephant of the B.B.T. Corporation 84
Xll ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Talaings with their Elephant Goads 85
Native House . 88
Wood-Carving on a Choung 89
The Farm Caves, near Moulmein 96
Big Bell in the Shwe Dagon Pagoda 97
Platform of Chonzon Pagoda I 00
Women and Babies at Chonzon 101
Villagers at Chonzon 104
Kado, a Model Village 105
Chinnasawmy Chaffing Coolie Girls 112
A Village Scene 113
Scene at a Railway Station 116
Monster Buddha at Amarapura . 117
Station at Amarapura Shore 120
Sagaing Shore . 121
The Moat, Mandalay 128
Bridge over the Moat, Mandalay 129
Chinnasawmy in Doorway of Queen's Apartments, Mandalay 132
A Court in the Palace, Mandalay 133
Moung Lu Poe at the Door of the Throne Room, Mandalay 136
The King's House, Mandalay J 37
The Kutho-Daw, Mandalay 140
A Street Scene, Mandalay 141
Three Haggard Old Nuns 144
The Golden Monastery, Mandalay 145
A Poongyi 148
Balustrade at the Golden Monastery, Mandalay 149
Fruit-sellers at Sagaing 152
Merry Childhood 153
The Pagoda in the Middle Defile, lrrawaddy 160
Verandah of the Dak Bungalow, Bhamo 161
Kachin Woman and Girl . 164
On the Heights by the River, Schwegu 165
The " lndaw " . 168
Fishermen 169
Waiting for the Steamer at Modah, below Bhamo 176
ILLUSTRATIONS xiii
PAGE
The Upper Defile, Irrawa<ldy 177
High Street, Sinbo . 180
A Red-Eyed Leogryph 181
Men of the Mossos Tribe from the Yunnan Valley 184
Policemen at Tiffin, Nawnghkhio 185
The Water Carriers, Wetwun 192
Gokteik Gorge 193
Chinnasawmy and Shan Women, Gokteik Station 196
On the Trolley . 197
At the Festival, Maymyo 208
Wood-carving at the Incomparable Pagoda, Mandalay 209
What I found in the Compound of the Dak Bungalow 216
Mandalay Shore 217
Orphans brought up at a Choung 218
The Ascent to a Pagoda 219
Refreshments . 222
Wood-carving on a Choung, Nyaung-u 223
One of the "Flats" 224
A Burmese Boat 225
Lascars jumping Overboard to Land the Line 232
Girls carrying Chatties, Nyaung-u 23:1
At Evening Time, M ingui 234
Evening Toilet, Magwe 235
The Lascars and the Anchor 238
Children and Pariah Dog, Aphanzeig 239
A Typical Group on the Shore of the Irrawaddy 240
Street in Nyaung-u 241
Buddha on the Shore, Minhla . 248
Buddha being Dragged across the Gangway, Minhla 249
Sacks of Monkey-nuts at Magwe 256
Ready to Start 257
Dwellers by the 'River-side 264
Minhla Fort 265
CHAPTER I
THE LAND OF PROMISE
WHENEVER for a moment the rushing stream of concen

trated thought and action ceases and my mind drops into
a backwater of idleness, the voices of those around me
grow insignificant, the affairs they speak of pale in com
parison with the pictures that arise clear and sharp
before my mental vision.
Once again in the rapidly darkening day, while the
sunset flashes luridly yellow, I steam past the towering
crag in the middle defile of the Irrawaddy ; the wash of
the pent-in current swirls around the narrowed corner,
the hoot of the syren sounds in my ears, and in response
to that warning there spring out in the darkness the
dropping fires of two torches held at arm's length by
figures seemingly carved in bronze at the two extremes
of a fifty-foot raft.
Or I am lying back on the verandah of the dak
bungalow at Bhamo, not far from the Chinese frontier,
and see framed in dark teak a raised causeway lying
· across a plain bounded by blue hills, and along the cause
, way there comes a convoy of mules kicking up the
dust; the tinkle of their bells rings in my ears over the
pric�y cactus plants and the scant herbage, while their
.
A
A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
drivers, in enonnous limpet hats and wide white trousers,
run after the1n, at the beginning of a journey up into
those hills and beyond, a journey that will last two
months at least.
Or I look up at a steep cliff of clay and see at the
smn1nit the gorgeously dressed Palaungs, like huge red
and blue parrots, silhouetted against a background of
pinnacles and pagodas and palms and sunlight.
Or I pass in the spirit a1nid the courts of the great
golden pagoda in Rangoon, and hear the monotonous
chant of the worshippers as they bow themselves before
a 1nighty brass image, that gleains out of a dim shrine by
the light of a hundred tiny candles guttering on the
ground. In the wann and dream-like dusk the smell of
the incense is wafted to my nostrils, and the fragrance of
the frangipanni perfu1nes the air like scent. I could go
on with a hundred of such scenes, all different, and all in
delibly impressed on my brain; for the charm of the most
fascinating country in the world, the country of Burma,
has laid hold upon me and will be with me to the end.
It was the fulfilment of a dream that I should go
there, in spite of the difficulty of getting away long
enough to cross to the other side of the world, in spite
of such sordid considerations as money, in spite of the
effort required to break away from daily routine. Bunna
combines so much: the glory of the East; the mystery
of the unknown, in its strange tribes and races as yet
but half understood, even by those who have studied
them 1nost; the fascination of nature untamed; and
the comfort of travelling under British rule. The
charm of this most fascinating land lies not in its
THE LAND OF PROMISE 3
beauty, for beauty Ceylon can beat it easily, but in its
variety. Ceylon with her rich jungle-covered hills and
her glorious vistas cannot call one back as does Burma
of the flat paddy-fields: of the pariah dogs and the dusty
villages.
As a holiday-land Burma is only just beginning to be
known; while Egypt has attracted its thousands Burma
has as yet only had its tens, the bloom of it is untouched,
its ways are as yet uncrowded. Yet this is bound to be
altered in a year or two, for the trip is after all extraor
dinarily cheap. The return fare for two years by one of
the Bibby boats, the principal line direct to Burma, is
only £7 5. No expensive wardrobe is required, and
away from the one or two large towns, where it must be
confessed the hotel charges are exorbitant, there are
dak bungalows put up by Government for the use of
travellers, to be occupied at the reasonable rate, of one
rupee four_ annas (ls. 8d.) a night. To this cert�in small
charges for "sweeper," etc., are added, and the food can
be arranged with the derwan or keeper for four rupees
eight annas a day (6s. ), or if one is staying more than a
day or two in one place it comes cheaper still to let
one's own native "boy " do the catering and cooking.
A native boy is indispensable to any one going about
the country who knows neither Hindustanee nor Bur
mese. For about thirty rupees a month, or possibly
twenty-five, with an added four annas a day "butter
money," a boy can be easily engaged, but the worst of it
is that many of them are very unsatisfactory. They are
almost invariably Madrassees or other natives of India,
and are as a rule good linguists, but are very ready to
4 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
take advantage of the slightest weakness in their master
or mistress for their own purposes. I was told by those
who had had much experience in the matter that nine
out of ten are untrustworthy, but the tenth, when you
can get hi1n, is a treasure, who will faithfully serve
you.
The time to make the trip is in the beginning of
November and the time to return is March, as after
that the hot weather comes to make existence in a
tropical climate wearisome to the flesh. I started on
November 8, joining the Cheshire, Bibby line, at
Birkenhead, and going right round with her instead of
overland to Marseilles as many passengers do.
When we were fairly started and out of .the Mersey
it was very rough indeed, so rough the Bibby pilot had
to stay on board and go to l\,Iarseilles with the boat
instead of being put ashore at Holyhead as usual.
During the night I heard tons of water thundering
down on the decks and rushing out of the scuppers with
a wash and gurgle. About four in the morning, while
I was being pitched from side to side in my bunk, I
was startled by the crash of some heavy object coming
bang up against the wall of the cabin at every lurch ;
the steward when summoned searched in vain some time
for the cause, but at last discovered a wheel-barrow
which had been left at large in the coal-bunkers below!
I was lucky enough to escape sea-sickness, though for
the next two days I preferred to have my meals on
deck rather than go into the saloon. At last, however,
when Captain Langston good-humouredly remarked on
the very un-invalidish plates of roast lamb I and a fellow
THE LAND OP PROMISE 5
passenger were consuming with enjoyment, we thought
it about time to make the effort and begin meals indoors.
The Chesltire and the Shropshire, twin-steamers, are
the smallest now in the Bibby fleet, and I had oppor
tunities for comparing them, for I came home in the
Shropsltire. I also spent the four days between Ran
goon and Colombo on the Herefordshire, one of the
largest boats on this line, but I preferred the smaller ones.
On all Bibby liners only first-class passengers are carried;
this not only gives them the run of the whole ship,
including the use of the lower decks as skittle-decks,
but makes a very homely feeling on board. The
difference between these boats and some of the great
floating palaces, of many decks and many classes, is best
expressed by saying it is comparable with the difference
between staying at your own club and at an hotel.
It may not be generally known that every officer in
the Bibby fleet must hold a master's certificate, and in
that respect at least is equal to the captain, a fact which
should inspire the passengers with a feeling of security.
A long sea voyage on a passenger steamer is like
nothing else; the ship is a world in itself; other people,
other interests, other anxieties drop from one, the petty
excitem�nts and games on board loom large in im
portance. Some voyages are from the beginning dull,
the passengers break into sets and one set refuses to
know another; there are jealousies and coolnesses, but
all who were there agreed in saying that there never had
been such a pleasant voyage as the one I was lucky
enm.i.gh to experience as my first.
The relations of passengers to each other would
'·
G A BACHELOR GillL IN BURMA
furnish forth a book in itself. Lives there a person
who does not think that he or she is entitled to a three
berth cabin to himself or herself while others may be
crammed three together ? Lives there any one who
does not resent the advent of new passengers, who cause
a little more disc01nfort, as if they were a source of
personal injury, and had no right to come on board at
all? These feelings there were no doubt on the Cltesftire,
they are indigenous to human nature, but they were
kept in check by the at1nosphere of general good
hu1nour and friendliness. The types on board ship
would furnish forth 1nuch delightful material for any
one who could appreciate them. There is the lady who
will be first, but who, if she is allowed that premier
position, is a real acquisition, for she is a born leader,
and can organise with spirit and originality; there is
the hoyden, whose loud laugh and too exuberant
manners are always bringing her under the displeasure
of her married sister, the sister who is comfortably
established in the East, and is kindly taking her out to
secure a like advantage; there is the spoilt child, who
inspires every one on board, except his parents, with a
frantic desire to administer a spanking; there is the
stuffy man, wholly out of place on a ship, who keeps
his port-hole hennetically sealed, to the disgust and
suffering of his cabin companions, and who complains
of draughts in the lled Sea ; there is the old maiden
lady, never seen without her knitting, who has plain
features, and looks sharp and sour, but is in reality one
of the shrewdest and kindest-hearted people on board.
My fellow travellers may fit the caps here offered, and
THE LAND OF PROMT�F.
are at perfect liberty to wear them if they choose, but

I can assure them they are not " made to 1neasure " !
To those who are quite novices there is a great deal
that is interesting on the ship itself: the crew of Lascars
with their ·weather-stained blue uniforms and shiniug
eyes; the 1nystery of the engines; the working of the
great ship: the extre1ne point of the fo'castle head,
where there is nothing between you and the great
ocean, and you may feel you are riding forward into
space ; the weird noises at nights, the rattles and groans
and creaks, and every now and then the monotonous
chant fro1n the crow's-nest, when at the hour, after the
bells have sounded, the two Lascars on the look-out
cry in their own tongue: I-lam dekte hain (I am look
ing out); Bati ackha Sahib (The la1nps are burning
brightly).
The voyage itself is of course much more interesting
than that over the Atlantic or to South America, where
little or no land can be seen all the way; there is
perpetual variety, though there are few stoppages.
The first land we saw was Cape St. Vincent, and
thereafter, at the unearthly hour of 5.30 A.1VI.. we were
warned that we were passing Gibraltar; the old hands
only snuggled down afresh, but the novices, a1nong wh01n
I was one, tried to struggle up on deck. I put on 1ny
big fur coat and a scarf over my head, and reeled up the
c01npanion way overcome by sleep, but I woke soon
enough when I reached the deck, for a blast of bitter
wind drove around, and I stepped into a flood of water
where the men were washing the decks. I struggled up
higher and came out on the saloon deck only to find it
8 A BACHELOR GIHL IN BURMA
exposed and soaking; it was raining and blowing at the
same time. Another woe-begone shadow inquired of
me where was Gibraltar, but I could not answer, for the
view around was as black as night. Together we made
for a sheltered corner under an awning and leaning over
the rail excitedly demonstrated to each other by signs
that " Gib " must be where the great moon-like light
house blinked and went out every few seconds. As we
were thus engaged a wild shower of sparks swept down
upon us from the bridge, where they were setting off
rockets in signal. Between fire and water we had a
lively time of it; but we hung on until, as the faintest
signs of dawn appeared, we did actually see something
of the mighty rock, towering far higher than we had
anticipated. However, to make up, we spent radiant
hours the next day lazily watching the sierras of Spain
as we passed along the coast. Great hills rising into
misty clouds, with slopes and ravines and gullies glowing
with colour, purple and blue and green and grey; I have
never looked upon any scenery which could so fitly be
described as opal, for there were even flashes of a kind of
ruddy tinge here and there. In the crinkles were little
white villages, with the houses falling away in straggling
lines adown the slopes, and here and there a tiny white
walled enclosure denoting a graveyard.
Marseilles is as well known to English people as Dover,
but to our insatiable eagerness it was full of interest.
We went up the funicular railway to the Church of
Notre Dame de la Garde, crowned by the massive gilded
figure of the Virgin, which looks down on a panorama
of sea and shore, and sharp ranges of white rock out-
lined by masses of dark foliage. Rocky islets stud the
sea, and on one stands "Monte Cristo's" Castle, easily
to be mistaken for the rock which fonns its foundation.
r'\..fter Marseilles the next great excite1nent was passing
Stromboli, which also occurred in the dark chilly hours
of the morning-they did not arrange these things well
for our comfort. It was so dark when we arrived on
deck that we could not see the conical peak uprising fron1
the sea at all, but as the sun rose, and the sky swept fr01n
pale pri1nrose and apple to orange, it came up black
against it, and in the midst of the blackness there burst
out a great puff of flame, and the lava ran down the side
like burning coals. The quicksilver sea 1neantime
turned to electric blue, the tiny white houses smiled out
at us from the lower slopes, and we suddenly awoke
from our absorption to find that the gannents in ,vhich
we had come out lightly attired were hardly suitable for
the full whiteness of day.
On a Sunday morning we passed through the Straits
of Messina, and saw the shining cone of Etna glowing
silver with snow, dominating all the scene. Fascinating
villages clustered along the shore; one of them built
into and upon a 1nighty mass of rock, stupendous in
size, and looking from the ship exactly like a giant's castle.
We arrived at Port Said on Noven1ber 21, and ·were
i1nmediately surrounded by a flotilla of boats thronged
with men of every colour and in every costu1ne. The
hybrid English,cosmopolitan slang, and native i1npudence
make up an impressive viThole. In its goods for sale, as
in other things, Port Said borrows from all nations, and
the lace, trinkets, enamel, and silver work which are
ll
offered are all offered at the hands of the middleman. My
impressions of the place are of dirt, dust, tawdriness,
extreme good-humour and a liberal overflow of officious
ness. Every man in the main street has nothing better
to do than to escort the newly landed from one shop
to another, hoping that if he is lucky he will get
" backsheesh " frmn the victim and more from his fleecer
in the shop. Hf fwever, in spite of all, it is worth
going ashore even though on return you have the
sensation of having escaped from a swarm of blue-bottles
which has been buzzing persistently around you.
In the evening the tawdriness vanishes, the lights
gleam golden, red or green ; they shine on the still
water ; and the canal offices, with their little sea-green
domes, rise against the lurid sky ; innumerable boats
crawl around like glow-worms, and the babel resolves
itself into a subdued and distant murmur. Then comes
the canal ! Among other and richer memories this still
holds its own, because of the quality of mystery which
entered into it.
When we had fairly started, the steamer crept on so
silently and slowly, that except for the ripple on the
viscid water one could not have known she was moving.
On each side were dim sandbanks dotted by white
posts and diversified by dark shadows. The mystery of
the night deepened. In the west, low down, a half
moon, lying horizontally, dropped almost perceptibly.
On the same side, above and beyond the sandbank,
was a vast lake of shimmering water, and as the moon
fell towards its surface her reflection broadened and
became a wide pathway of orange light. Lower she
fell, and deeper grew her dusky tinge in the mirk,
until she seemed not so much a moon as some solid
,three-sided object projected on an infinitely distant sky.
The lights for a signal shone out ahead-two whites
and a red-which, being interpreted, means : " Draw up
at the next siding." On arrival there we found two
cargo boats already tethered, and we took up a station
behind them. In the interval of stillness that followed
we had time to notice the faint hiss of escaping steam,
the shimmering of stars in the oily water ; Orion and
Sirius rising higher than ever seen in England ; then far
ahead shone out a brilliant coruscating light, shooting a
thousand jewelled rays along the water. There was so
much grandeur in the noiseless approach of this appa
rently unsupported light, that even the chatter on the
saloon deck fell into silence. On it came, and as its
direct rays ran past our eyes and ceased to blind us, we
saw behind it the towering bows and high decks of a
French battleship. Her portholes, crowded by eager
faces, her barbettes, her guns, and her warlike apparatus
slipped before us and vanished ; another came and yet
another. It was close on midnight, and still they came,
altogether eight ships, four of them battleships, and as
each one receded from l.lS, in slow majesty, the lights of
the next striking on her through the miasmic mist, now
rising from the water, transformed her into a phantom
ship seen in a fiery blue glow. The searchlights upon
the water attracted a multitu"de of small wriggling fish,
which leaped and squirmed, alive with phosphorus, until
one had to rub one's eyes to believe their record true.
S� much for the canal by night.
1� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
Ry day the desert is seen, and the- magic of it lies in
the fact that it is so exactly what a desert should be.
The pinky-yellow sand, the lines of purple haze, the
ridge of barren hills, the tufted palms and little oases,
the peasants working in the sun, the donkeys grazing,
the camps where cmnels lie and chew the cud in
haughty unconcern, and by the side of the canal the
little station houses apparently cut out of yellow
cardboard, all this is just what one expects to see.
Iloth going and returning the sea at Suez was of an
overpowering blueness, a blueness such as I never ·saw
matched even in the Far East, ranging all the way
from turquoise to prussian and infinitely varied; for
this alone Suez may be remembered.
It was after Suez that we first tried sleeping out on
deck. I had seen the notice that the upper deck was
reserved for ladies at night, when I boarded the steamer
at Tilbury, to get a look at her before she went round to
Liverpool, and imagination had transported me from
the grey lowering skies and dirty atmosphere of the
docks straightway to a picture of tropical calm, a moon
lit ship upon a moonlit sea, where she made hardly any
motion as she floated beneath a gorgeous tropical sky
studded with stars. The reality was different. The
steward being apprised of the intention of several
ladies to take advantage of the deck accornmodation
rolled up bed and bedding in huge sausages with a
practised hand, and we, trembling at the upward flight
through the still lighted passages in scanty bed attire,
fled after hi1n. The lights were out in the drawing
romn through which we had to pass, and from the
blackness of the floor various voices piteously wailed,
"Oh, take care, that's my head!" "Don't tread on
me I " " Here I am, can't you see ? " Stepping gingerly
I arrived on the warm smooth deck, which however was
so completely cove1·ed with awnings that only at one
side could we get glimpses of any stars. Peering down
over the rail I saw the sheeted foam racing past, with
here and there the bright starlike phosphorescence out
shining the moonlight. Dim figures joined me, and a
wild skirt dance was executed before we peered down
to read our names written in chalk on the deck beside
our respective bedding. There was a good deal of
wind, and altogether it was not much like being cradled
in the tropic calm I had foreseen. It was difficult to
get into bed at all when the wind wrenched sheets and
blankets and threw them playfully aside ; dressing
gowns and bed-shoes had to be carefully tucked under
the mattresses or they would have gone overboard.
Then to sleep while the steady tramp of the officer on
the bridge overhead sounded to and fro, and every half
hour the din of the bells clanged right in our ears.
Soon after eight bells (midnight) a short oblivion
visited my sleepy eyes to be ended abruptly in a wild
start when I awoke to pandemonium I Everything
seemed to be shrieking and screaming and whistling at
once, the awnings snapped like pistol-shots, the wind
yelled, the sails groaned and strained, the air was full
of salt, and my face and hands were stinging intolerably
with it. I wondered if I could, if I dare, make a dash
for the shelter of the drawing-room. But there was so
much to get hold of, slippers, pillows, bed-clothes and
dressing-gown, and to let one go would be to part from
it for good. I simply clung on with hands and nails in
desperation, and after a while dozed again. Yet when
six bells ( 4 A.M.) rang out the wind was blowing worse,
so [ made one effort, grabbed everything into an armful,
and leaving the mattress alone, to stick to the deck if it
could, collapsed in a corner of the drawing-room on to
a heap of cushions and soon slept again.
Besides the wind, another drawback to sleeping on
deck was the early awakening. At 5 A.M. the electric
lights were turned on from the bridge, and she would
be a hardy sleeper indeed who could withstand their
glare; one had to rise and stumble downstairs with
bedding all in a heap, for the Lascars were waiting to
swab the decks.
We had, of course, all the usual board-ship amuse
ments, the fancy dress ball, the book dinner, the
gymkhana, and skittle competitions, and we had some
that were not usual. One extraordinary hoax took in
nearly every one on board. Somewhere in the Red Sea,
one of the wits among the men started the idea of
getting up a football match with a Colombo team on
arrival. The suggestion was received enthusiastically;
every morning in the early hours a string of bare-footed
pyjama-clad men raced round the decks training. At
Perim a wire was supposed to have been sent ashore
requesting the Colombo tea1n to be in readiness. The
whole affair was kept up with great spirit until the last
morning before we arrived at Colombo, when printed
slips containing a full account of the great match, de
scribing how one player had "sprained his wind," and
'l'HE LAND OF PROMISE Hi
" Hackenschmidt·, Ceylon's renowned full-back'' distin
guished himself, were distributed, and the mighty joke,
which had deceived all but the initiators, and lasted
a full fortnight, was "blown" amid roars of laughter.
The first paper ever printed on board a Bibby boat
was published this voyage ; the last thing in it was by
no means the least clever :
He thought he saw a battered hat
That danced the Highland fling;
He looked again and saw it was
A football match in swing.
"'l'is clear," said he, " when we go East
Things get more interesting ! "
CHAPTER II
THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST
THE night before the steamer arrived at Colombo there

was a pervading sadness on board; those who had been
the wildest among the younger set of men going out
for the .first time, fell into melancholy as suddenly as
does a puppy who has bumped himself in the midst
of an uproarious game. There was a great golden
moon too, which intensified the melancholy, and it
was hardly to be wondered at that some leant over the
railings and gazed into the depths, without answering
when they were spoken to. So long as they were on
board all these young fellows, these prospective tea
planters and engineers, had been among friends; they
were not severed from England, and the life on board was
a holiday, an interregnum, which might legitimately be
enjoyed, but now they were to launch off into a new
and untried life, from whence they could not return for
many years, a life where success or failure awaited them,
and in which their powers and attainments were to
bec01ne real weapons in the carving out of a career.
Yet in the morning, when Colombo was seen rising
behind her lovely bay of blue and green dancing water,
these thoughts were dissipated as a mist before a tropical
THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST 17
· sun, and all was life and energy and high spirits once
more.
One's first sight of the East ; can it ever be forgotten?
Countless books and colour illustrations and other
people's descriptions have made it familiar, but the real
sight comes as a surprise, one awakes suddenly fr01n a
dream and finds it true. The first excitement was the
arrival of the" husbands' boat," bringing the men who
had been separated from their wives for months, or even
1 years. It was extremely interesting, for I had grown so
intimate with many of the wives that I could not help
having speculations upon the individuality and appear
ance of the husbands. It was a trying time for both,
poor things, for the launch could not come up to the
gangway at once, but was kept knocking up and down
on the choppy waves near by, while sun-reddened faces,
crowned by topees, peered up from under the awning at
the steamer's deck high above, where stood the excited
women. Cries of" There he is, there's daddy, see dear,
oh no it isn't ! ''
" Can't you see him?" " What, that one? Oh yes,
so it is 1 " echoed around on all sides.
Children grown from toddling babes to boys and girls
were ready to shout" daddy" to any sunburnt stranger,
and the buzz of excitement amongst their mothers was
tempered by a quite perceptible nervousness.
Then came the rush up the gangway, the variety of
greetings, ranging from the warm hug to the formal
nod. It was very funny to see how mindful of conven
tion were some, how totally regardless of onlookers
others.
C
Not long after came our turn to go ashore, and as
we set foot on the dark shady wharf the whiff of the
" spicy " s1nell came to our nostrils, and we felt we
really were in the East. It is better to see Colombo
before Rangoon, for Colombo fulfils all one's expecta
tions, Rangoon woefully disappoints them. The clean
ness of Colombo, the s1nooth broad red roads, the
rickshaws, the emerald-green foliage, are all elements of
delight, and then the drive along the Galle Face parade,
with the 1nother-of-pearl waves breaking in creamy surf,
and the palms waving around the hotel ahead, is purely
entrancing. The Galle Face is one of the finest hotels
in the world, the wind blows ever through its lofty
halls and open corridors, and rustles the leaves of the
great growing plants. One steps straight from the
arcade to a s1nooth green terrace running right down to
the beach, and in the evening the palms are decorated
·with countless electric lights set a1nid the foliage and
gleaming like rubies and sapphires. To stand here
in the warm scented dusk and listen to the breaking
of the surf at one's feet is an experience never to be
forgotten.
It was tea-ti1ne when we arrived, and we were all
glad enough to get a real cup of tea after a long course
of ship's tea and condensed 1nilk, and afterwards we
went, a party of five, for a drive in rickshaws to the
Ilotanical Gardens. The trees were gorgeous with
flowers, some dropping fire in fla1ning bunches, some
lit up by large yellow blossoms like gloxinias, and
others covered with a mass of mauve. The only thing
that jarred the feelings was the sight of the poor miser-
able wild beasts kept in a torturing captivity in cages
ridiculously inadequate.
Coming back the night fell with startling suddenness.
One minute we saw a silver-blue lake against a mass of
black foliage outlined on a saffron sky, and the next it
was gone and all was dark.
The first night on Eastern soil is strange in many ·
ways: the mosquito nets, the little lizards running about
the distempered walls, the squawk of the menacing
crows at the window, all remind one strongly that one
is not in England. I left early the next morning to
rejoin the ship, leaving many dear friends behind in this
land of delight; I felt the parting with two particu
larly, but we agreed to meet again; either I was to
return to them and spend some time in Ceylon on the
way home, or they would come over and join me in
Burma.
The next few days to Rangoon were sad: half the
passengers had disembarked, life had gone out of every
thing. The porpoises were still with us and the flying
fish, we could still go to the fo'castle head, and watch
the great frill of foam falling away each side from the
cutting bows, but these things depend so much for their
interest on the companions who share them with you !
It was not until sunrise on December 8, when, aroused
by an unexpected noise, I sleepily peered out of my port
hole and saw the pilot leap aboard high over the bul
warks outlined against a sky of orange and red, that I
revived. We were at the mouth of the river then, and
the water was French grey and very smooth; when we
were still afar off, churning up the mud between the flat
�O A BACHELOR GIHL IN BURMA
spongy banks, we saw the gleam of the Pagoda, and felt
that after all what we had gone through was but a
prelude to the real thing-here was Burma 1
It is astonishing that Pagoda ! From a distance it
appears high as if it stood on a hill dominating the
town, as one gets nearer it drops down and becomes in
conspicuous, but when one comes really near, it rises
again, and is found to be on a majestic ridge.
I h?.d very little idea what I was going to do on
arrival; the friend, Mrs. M., who had persuaded me to
come out to Burma, lived at Moulmein, which is a day's
journey across the bay from Rangoon, and I did not
know whether she intended to meet me or not ; any way
I expected some sort of instructions to be awaiting me,
and did not worry myself at all. I was right to take
things quietly, for I found my welfare had been very
abundantly provided for; before any one else went
ashore the Govermnent House launch was alongside,
and an A.D.C. who came in it carried me off to enjoy
the hospitality of the first lady in the land at Govern-
1nent House, where I heard that Mrs. M. was already
staying.
The glimpse I had of Rangoon as we rattled through
behind two fine horses was unsatisfactory. The place
lacks the colour and cleanness of Colombo; it is untidy,
unfinished, a town in the making. There are great
imposing stone buildings it is true, but they are set
amid small mean hovels and waste places covered with
lumber. The crowd is cosmopolitan, not by any means
distinctively Burman, and the general effect is bewilder
ing. Then we passed into the broad well-kept roads
2
.'1 CHUPRASSIE OUTSIDE GOVERNME!'iT

HOUSE, RANGOON
:s
/\ COl<Nl•:R IN THE SHWE 0.\Gt>N P/\GUIJ.\ (p. 33)

THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST �I
running through Cantonments, as the European quarter
is called, the residential part of Rangoon. Pleasant
bungalows stood about in the midst of bare burnt
brown lawns, but here and there were glorious masses
of flaming poinsettia, and great bushes of royal purple
bougainvillea.
Government House itself is a perfect palace, not
beautiful externally, for it is built of yellow and red
brick and terra cotta, but very fine within. On the
steps was an imposing array of white clad chuprassies,
with daggers in their belts, from which hung red tassels.
I was most warmly and hospitably received by my
charming hostess, whom I had already met in London,
and affectionately greeted by Mrs. M., so soon felt at
home.
In Government House everything has been designed
to give space and air. The hall runs right up to a dome,
and the upper stories are carried round it in a series of
white arcades. The handsomely carved teak staircase
is in two branches, passing up two sides. The floor is
of mosaic, and a high arch opposite the entrance shows
a glimpse of one of the most magnificent ball-rooms in the
world. In spite of its airiness and spaciousness the hall
is not bare, for it is decorated with fine specimens of
Burmese wood-carving on a scale proportionate to its
size ; two enormous elephant tusks are on the walls, and,
as I saw it, there were almost always cannas, a kind of
red and orange flag, a gallant flower, standing up in
· large vases and giving a dash of vivid colour. The
downstairs servants are mostly Burmans, and wear
turbans and lyungis of the purest purple, with snowy
•,
2� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA ·
white engies or jackets. One great chann of the native
servant is the noiselessness of his approach, his bare feet
1nake no sound on the floor.
I shall never forget 1ny first awakening in this new
land. It was about 4 A.M. when I got out of bed and
leaned from the high window. The moon was still up,
shedding a brilliant white light that 1nade the shadows
of the thick-foliaged trees dotting the lawns black by
contrast. The flat lawns, in spite of careful nightly
watering, were not very green. The sinell of Burma
came strongly to 1ny nostrils, a smell I never afterwards
could forget. It is not so spicy as that of Ceylon, but
rather a thin acrid s1nell as of something burnt, and to
me it will for ever hereafter mean Burma.
The morning that followed was glorious ; it was like
the fulness of a perfect 1nidsummer day in England.
The lawns were drenched with dew in the shade, but the
yellow sunlight had quickly dried up all that came under
its influence. Chota hazri, consisting of tea and toast
and bananas, here called plantains, was brought at 7.30,
and breakfast downstairs followed at 9.30. Between
these hours the 1nembers of the household enjoyed their
daily ride, for later the tremendous power of the sun
made itself felt too strongly for enjoy1nent. During the
week I stayed here I saw the society side of Anglo
Tiurman life. I was driven round the great lakes in
Dalhousie Park, I was taken to hear the band at the
Gymkhana Club, I visited Rangoon races, and attended
various other entertainments. Everything was so strange
that I felt hopelessly bewildered and bemused. The
various races of natives in the streets were legion; the
THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST
language, or rather languages, for Hindustanee is as
much spoken as Burmese, were so difficult ; every detail,
even down to the beetles in one's bath, was so unfamiliar,
that it was quite a relief to catch sight of birds resem
bling English starlings and wagtails hopping about on
the lawn ! I was panting to know and find out some
thing about the people and the land, but did not know
where to begin. As a tentative step, when we were
sitting in the great airy hall after breakfast, fanned by
electric " punkahs," I expressed a desire to take a gharry
and go down to the shops in the town. The ticca or
hired gharries have one merit, that of being cheap, it is
all you can say for them; you pay 12 annas the first
hour and eight the next for a second-class one, and a
little more for a first-class specimen. The body of the
vehicle is built on the lines of a box or dog-kennel, and
is so small that two Europeans can with difficulty sit
there together, though six or eight Burmans frequently
get in easily; the difference is not so much one of bulk
as of temperament. The noise made by the iron-tyred
wheels is so jarring that you feel inclined to stop your
ears all the time. This of course does not affect the
Burman, except agreeably ; he likes any sort of noise
rather than none. The windows or openings are pro
vided with sun-shutters, often very necessary, but even
when they are open you cannot see anything out of
them but the road, unless you sit very low down with
your feet up on the opposite seat to brace yourself from
falling off.
My first raid on the town was a triumph of incompe
tency. My friend lent me her "butler," whom she had
brought over with her. He was a Telugu, spoke
English fluently, and seemed smart, but suffered from
the worst defect of the native-glib superficiality. I
was entirely dependent on hin1, as the gharry wallahs do
not speak a word of English. They really require to be
driven themselves by word of mouth, for it is very little
use telling them where to go unless it is a well
known place, such as the station or principal hotel.
They do not ca�e to know their destination ; it is best
to shout "right" or "left" at the turns, but as I did
not then even know the Hindustanee for right and left,
it was not much use trying this plan. Nearly all the
low-class work in Burma down country, the work of
coolies, gharry wallahs, etc., is done by the natives of
India, who have swarmed over in their thousands. The
Burmans consider these posts beneath their dignity, and
it is unusual even to find Burman servants in private
houses. Up-country the native is not quite so ubiquitous,
and the coolie work of loading and unloading cargo
from the steamers is almost wholly in Burman hands,
that is to say, at present, for the native will no doubt
arrive there also without any long delay. At first I
could not understand that the word "native" invari
ably referred to the Indian native, and not the native of
the land ; this is rather perplexing to a new comer.
My gharry wallah was a dark-skinned man with
yellowish wrappings and turban ; he settled down on
his box with his bare brown legs full in my view through
the front opening of the gharry. The little rat-tailed
pony seemed excessively far away, but this did not deter
him from putting his heart into the business, and we
NUN AND MONK AT THE
SHWE DAGON PAGODA
AN l�IAGE OF THE llUDDl·IA
THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST �5
started off at a tremendous pace. I had taken the
precaution of getting a list of likely shops for what I
wanted to buy from the A.D.C., and as we neared the
town, which lay about two miles off, I called my escort,
who was hanging on behind, on the little stand which
always makes a convenient resting-place for the native
servant, and asked him if he knew a certain shop.
"Yes, Missie, very good, Missie, very good," he
replied. He sprang up again, and away we rattled
once more. We pulled up in one of the principal
streets, the man hopped down with alacrity and flung
open the door with a flourish. I looked in vain for
any sign of the shop I had come to seek.
" Is this it? " I asked doubtfully. " I don't see it.
It is somewhere near the Strand hotel."
"Very good, Missie, very gpod," retorted my hench
man, eagerly slamming the door, and off we went again.
This time we pulled up actually at the Strand hotel
itself. I now began to understand that I was leaning
on a broken reed, and that if I wanted anything doing
I must do it myself. So I asked directions at the hotel
and finding out what street the required shop was in
I set the concern off in the right direction, and keeping
a sharp look-out, shouted out to the driver to stop when
I caught sight of the shop, then with a little panto
mimic waving and gesticulation I manreuvred him up
to the right door. This business was more exciting
than it sounds, for the shops stand back a considerable
way from the streets in some places, the names are
extremely irregular, and you have to watch both sides
of the street at once. I grew quite hot with all this
l)
exertion. The next time I mentioned a shop I asked
my attendant if he really did know it, and this called
forth such profuse assurances that I was gullible
enough to believe him, especially as I had been told he
knew Rangoon.
I had asked for Orr and I arrived at Rowe I I
thought at first that this was native inability to dis
tinguish between OR and RO, but I have since come
to the conclusion that it was nothing so subtle, but
1nerely that the 1nan being totally ignorant of the shop
I wanted, and quite incapable of confessing himself to
be so, took me to Rowe at a venture, that place being a
large general emporium much frequented by Europeans.
However, between these points I had seen several of
the other names on my list, so I did manage to compass
most of my shopping, but what with the unaccustomed
heat, the dust and the glare, I was nearly tired out
when I returned home. After lunch, which was at two,
I was glad enough to retire to the palatial room, with
dressing-room and two bath-rooms attached, which I
shared with my friend Mrs. 1\,1. I took the hot and
cold water taps and English baths for granted at
this time. I had yet to learn the ways of the ordinary
bungalow. It certainly was very hot, and every one
kept telling me what astonishingly hot " cold weather ,,
they were having, but I am one of those lucky mortals
whom a change of temperature does not greatly affect.
Of course I was grateful for the punkahs, and ice, and
midday siesta, without which the heat would have been
unbearable, but with these alleviations I felt ordinarily
quite well and active. We had tea on the lawn, over
'rHE SPICY-SMELLING EAST
which the shadows of the trees had fallen, and this was
always one of the most enjoyable times of the day; the
sky still shone electric blue, but the sun had lost its
deadly power. Alas, the interval for enjoyment was
short, for darkness fell immediately after sunset. Many
evenings we drove between tea and dinner, sometimes
round the lakes in the park where the golden pagoda
could be seen reflected in the water, then we stopped at
Gossip Point, where nearly the whole of Rangoon was
assembled in all descriptions of wheeled vehicles ; and
afterwards in the scented darkness, with the fireflies flash
ing around like diamonds, we went on to the Gymkhana
Club. One day I was taken further afield to what are
called the Big Lakes. The roads were smothered in red
dust, and the great bullock-carts were a perpetual nuis
ance. The bullocks are yoked so wide apart that they walk
in the ruts, and with their swelling sides occupy almost
all the available road. In out-of-the-way districts such as
I visited later I found out the reason for this. The roads
there are often so heavily cut up that the centre is a
mere hump almost grazing the axle of the cart. For
any bullocks to keep a footing on it would be im
possible, but when they walk in the deep broad ruts the
cart scrapes along with comparative ease ; the manner
of yoking is therefore a survival of days when "made "
roads of hard surface there were none.
On this drive we passed through a suburb of Rangoon
called Kokine, and saw a native village of mat and
mud houses and clinging smells, and came out at last
by a rough field-road at one corner of a mighty lake
heavily set with large islands. There was an orange
�8 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
light in the setting sun peculiar to Burma, a colour so rich
and deep that it makes one feel one has never seen orange
before. The still foliage rose indigo and black against
it, and in the clear air there came to our ears the howls
of far-away pariah dogs and the squeaking of ungreased
carts, which at a distance sounds like a confused murmur
of talking voices.
But of all the sights of Rangoon none can come near
the marvellous pagoda. Other pagodas there are also,
and the Sule or Soolay pagoda in the town might
attract attention anywhere else ; but the Shwe Dagon
(pronounced Shway Dagone) is tlte pagoda above all in
Bunna. It is seen in many aspects from many points
of view. It is always peeping at you, and you can never,
while in Rangoon, lose the consciousness of its existence.
"rhen comes your first real introduction to it, and
thenceforward it draws you again and again to see it
under every aspect, under the garish light of day, under
the mellow light of evening, and under the pure light of
the moon, and every time you see it you think you have
never seen it before and that you never can see it again,
for that aspect which has just impressed itself upon you
is the most perfect of all. It touches you as if it were
a living thing, for it seems as if all the petitions and
adoration and cries of sorrowing humanity which have
risen up around it for so many centuries have impreg
nated the mighty spire, and given it indeed in some
sense the quality of life.
I had pictured it smooth and clean with a row of
even roofs rising up to it in steps, but it is all uneven
and heterogeneous.
'rHE SPICY-SMELLING EAST �9
The long ridge on which it stands is covered with
trees from amid which the central pagoda or tope rises,
and down one side and another run rows of more or less
carved roofs enclosing the ascents. The most generally
used of these and the finest is that on the south, and
here I, in charge of one of the staff, was dropped one
evening soon after my arrival.
The first porch or entry is new and tawdry, built in
1903 ; on each side are leogryphs of immense size.
Then one reaches the older entrance, now partially
hidden, and passes on up a long slippery cement slope,
here and there broken by steps, and lined by stalls laden
with sweetmeats, flowers, cigars, paper flags, and many
other things, all of the flimsiest nature. At the moat
there is an opening and a glimpse of the surrounding
country, and then the way mounts steeply by numerous
steps, between columns painted white and deeply stained
at the bases by betel-nut ejections.
The fame of the Shwe Dagon is a magnet which
attracts Buddhists from all lands. Its special sanctity
is because it contains such precious relics, viz. :
" Of the four human Buddhas of the present dispensa
tion: the drinking-cup of Kawkathan, the robe of Gawna
gong, the staff of Kathapa, and eight hairs of Gautama.
Another version gives the staff of the first, the water
filter of the second, and a portion of the robe of the
third, but, since they are absolutely inaccessible, the
precis� ownership is of the less importan.ce. A�ter the
annexation a passage was cut from the niche facing the
east entrance to the centre of the pagoda, which showed
that, the original pagoda has had seven casings added to .
it. The hti (the umbrella at the top) was thrown down
by an earthquake in 1888, and a new one, valued at six
lakhs, was put up by public subscription and with
gratuitous labour. For many years the Shwe Dagon
was merely gilt and re-gilt. Since the beginning of the
twentieth century it has been covered with thin gold
plates as far up as the top of the inverted begging-bowl,
whence the columnar spire rises through the ' twisted
turban,' the 'lotos flower,' and the 'plantain-bud.' ...
Rangoon for every one except those who make their
living there is the city of the Shwe Dagon."*
At length, after a breathless ascent, we came out on
to the platform. Directly opposite was a shrine resting
at the base of the pagoda, and there are others, somewhat
similar, at the four sides of the platform. In the centre
rises the mighty gold pagoda bordered, between the larger
shrines, by smaller ones containing images of the Buddha,
and by various decorations such as paper umbrellas in
colours. Around this runs the broad pavement or court
looking like a street, edged on the outer side by shrines
and pagodas, some of them very large, set at all angles,
and of very various shapes and designs. Behind these
again, to be reached by narrow passages between them,
are platforms or rest-houses, looking out over the
wide plain below, these are for the use of those who
come to worship. On festival days the platforms are
crowded with whole families, who bring their bedding,
and cooking-pots, and settle down in great enjoy
ment.
When we stepped on to the great platform or court
"" "Burma: a Handbook," by Sir J. G. Scott, K.C.I.E.
the now familiar feeling of bewilderment was strong
upon me, there was so much to see, everything was so
irregular, so individual, I did not know how to take it
all in. This is I suppose a very common feeling with
visitors to the Shwe Dagon ; it stuns one by its intricate
beauty. We were opposite to the first large shrine and
from its dim recesses two shiny brass machine-made
faces of images of the Buddha glared at us. A number
of priests were kneeling, swaying to and fro, repeating a
weird monotonous chant, which seemed a repetition of
the same words again and again. White Buddhas
with sly sensual faces peered out from the shadows on
each side, it was a veritable cave of images, and many
little candles guttering in the draught were shining
through a low tunnel upon another, the most sacred of
all. We should have been obliged to crouch to enter
that tunnel, and all we could see without doing so was
a glint of the gilt on the immovable image. It is a
curious thing that though the images of the Buddha
are supposed to be alike, they are most emphatically
different. The expression is sometimes sensual, some
times smirking, sometimes sly, sometimes powerful, and
at the best serene and dignified. The newer figures,
with the machine-made brass-cast faces, are very
uninteresting. By far the most usual position is that
of the seated Buddha, when his right hand rests on the
right knee with the fingers hanging down, and the left
hand is open on his lap. This represents him sitting
under the Bo-tree, when there came to him the supreme
wisdom. The standing images show him in the attitude
of teaching, with the right hand upraised, and the
3� A DACHELOR GIHL IN BURMA
lying down ones as he was at death when he attained
Nehban, eternal rest, removed from all earthly dis
turbances.
The platform at the base of the pagoda is so large
that even to walk round it takes a long time, and to
stop continually, as one wishes to, involves still more.
We could not stay longer than about an hour this first
evening, and I only got a general impression, but I
returned subsequently many times to fill in details.
The chief beauty of the Shwe Dagon is of course the
magnificent centre-piece or tope, which is always
majestic and never tawdry. The strange curves speak
to one, for the language of curves is as that of sounds
and is understood by those who know. The pagoda is
as articulate as 1nusic, and when the setting sun shines
on it, making it ruddy gold, as it did that first evening,
there seems to be a deep rich note of hopes fulfilled and
serenity attained, while in the morning light it is sharper
and shriller, telling of the joy of childhood and of the
threshold of life, a radiant joy. The plinth of the
pagoda is of tiers and blocks, its bell-shaped body rises
full and round, then tapers to the spire, and on the top
is a htee or so-called umbrella, not unlike the pope's
tiara, made of metal and gilded. Very few realise the
wealth that devotion has lavished on this beautiful
work, for the part of the pagoda which is wholly covered
with plates of thin solid gold is large, and besides this
the whole is overlaid with gold leaf. The htee is
enriched with bells and with jewels, many of them real;
and in the sunlight occasionally a ruby or tmerald burns
out, scintillating and throbbing in rays of colour. The
6
IN THE COURTS OF THE SHWE

DAGON PAGODA
7
SACRED UMHl!ELLAS, SHWE DAGON PAGODA

htee alone cost nearly £50,000 and was a gift of Mindon
Min, the last King of Burma but one.
The forest of smaller pagodas rising around the base
seems there but to show off the stately majesty of
the central one. But these pagodas and the shrines
also are so marvellously worked, and so richly
decorated, that they are well worth studying. The
detail is endless ; looking down the vist� of any of the
" streets " one sees all the pinnacles and carving and
htees in mighty disarray; wood-work, silver and stone,
tinsel and paint, and mirror-work, flash and flicker against
a background of stately palms. Every here and there are
tall posts highly decorated and terminating in the figure
of a bird, the Brahminical duck, with long streamers and
pennons of coloured paper flying out from them in the
light breeze. These are praying columns, set up to
propitiate the nats or spirits.
Some of the shrines are marvellously carved in wood
left its natural colour, and others have the wood-work
gilded. The most characteristic, and, apparently from
the worshippers' point of view, the most effective, are
those made of a mosaic of little bits of looking-glass set
in zinc. Others are painted a rich terra cotta, the colour
of �he roads. Some are fantastic in the Chinese style,
and some of the pagodas are of plain stone, and moulder
away uncared for. Seen as a whole, in the burnished
light of an unclouded sun at mid-day, the gilt and tinsel,
the tawdriness and overloaded ornament, often shout
aloud to the silencing of the grander lines ; but to me
they never were so blatant as to drown all noise except
their own, for I was fortunate, my first impressions were
E
gained in the dusk of evening, when the stridencyishushed
and only the deeper undertones of grandeur remain.
That first evening I was too much occupied by the
pagoda itself and its attendant shrines to give much
notice to the people. Besides, darkness was falling and
the colours of their clothes were not noticeable, but
when I came again in the broad light of morning with a
camera, all the gay daintiness of dress of which I had
heard so much shone out radiantly. I was not alone,
for I was provided with a stalwart chuprassie over six
feet high, who could not speak a word of English, and
who, until I got used to him, embarrassed me a good
deal more than I embarrassed him. The way in which
he "shoo-ed" the people away from before me as I
walked up the steps, the air with which he held my
camera or sunshade when I was not using them, and the
gesticulations with which he called my attention to any
particularly garish bit of mosaic work, were enough to
destroy the nerve of all but the most self-contained. He
seemed quite unable to understand I could want to
photograph the ordinary people, and I could not explain.
Presently, however, my difficulties were lightened by a
small, a very small, Burman, who wandered gently up,
and, without being asked, attached himself to 1ny suite
as interpreter. He explained to the chuprassie it was
chiefly figure-groups I was interested in ; he told the
people to stand still for me, but even with his assistance
it was not easy to get good subjects. There were few
people about and they nearly all knelt or sat in the deep
shadows of the shrines and porticoes. My friend told me
this lack of worshippers was because there was a festival
on the morrow, when I had better come again, which I
said I would do. ,vhen I did appear the next day I
found him there as gentle and smiling as before. He
told me his name was Moung Nyun and that he was a
drawing-master. He proudly brought out a sketch-book
in which he had been making studies of the wood-work
in the pagoda arcade, and he accompanied me so
simply and naturally that I felt he was doing it out
of pure courtesy and not frorn any idea of tip-hunting
whatever.
But the people, though more numerous on this second
day, were as elusive as ever : in France or England sun
shine is enjoyable rather than otherwise, many a group
can one catch unawares for a snap-shot sunning them
selves in a street or on the broad steps of an old church,
but in Burina, except in the early morning, when they
love to squat down warming their backs in the sun, the
people prefer the shade, and satisfactory groups are im�
possible. I could not interrupt their devotions in the
dark shadows of the shrines to ask them to keep still,
and yet to take them instantaneously was hopeless. If
ever I did persuade one or other to go into the sun, the
stiffness of the pose completely spoiled any interest in
the photo, so the net result of several mornings' work
was not great.
It is almost hopeless to attempt to give a description
of the people ; there were little boys with their hair cut
all round in a neat fringe, leaving the centre part a
rather skimpy bunch of ends tied tightly and waving
upward like carrot-tops. The favourite colour beyond
all question is pink, and I cannot describe it otherwise
than as the pinkest of pinks, the kind of colour one sees
as a rule only in cocoa-nut sweets or ice creams. Blues
and greens were simply non-existent here, though up
country I came across a few. No doubt fashion in
colours accounts for something, but it may also be that
the sallow-faced Burman instinctively feels that blues
and greens do not suit his cmnplexion. The men and
women alike wear lyungis for workaday use, that is to
say, skirts shaped like sacks open at both ends ; the
fulness is crossed over and tucked in neatly on one side
by the women, and gathered more in a bunch by the
men. Their short jackets are also very similar, and
though the men have often moustaches I do not think I
saw a beard on a Burman the whole time I was in Burma;
in fact, the only difference by which one can tell the
sexes is that the man is never seen without his turban,
generally pink, and the woman has her hair uncovered.
He twists his scarf round his head, very often leaving a
sort of bird's nest of dark hair in the middle ; she greases
hers, smoothes it up tightly, and carries it in a flat coil
immediately across over the forehead, and there is always
a flower of some sort hanging down on the left side.
An ornamental comb is a favourite addition, or a gold
bangle encircling the coil. Out of doors and at festivals
the better dressed women complete their costumes by a
light gauzy scarf thrown round the shoulders as English
women wear them. The smartest dress of all is a
tamein which occasionally replaces the lyungi: this is
open at one side and shows the leg slightly as the owner
walks, but l saw very few tameins and a great many
lyungis. The Bunnese girl at her smartest smears her
8
A GROUP (IF SHRINES, SHWE DAGON PAGODA

ON TH�: STEPS OF A SHRINE,
SHWE Di\G()N PAGODA
face with a kind of paste called thanaka, which makes
it saffron yellow, and wears an immense number of
diamonds all over her little person. She swaggers in
imitably as she holds out a huge cheroot in her gold
bangled hand. The man's festival garment is a putsoe,
a very rich and fulJ silk skirt gathered up in a great
bunch. It is said that occasionally the surplus is flung
over the shoulder ; this I never saw, though I was lucky
enough to see the most gorgeous putsoes at the races;
one large stout man-stout Burmans are not at all un
common-had a most radiant pink silk putsoe which
must have taken an untold number of yards of silk in
the making.
Hut even at the festival I did not see many smart
costumes at the pagoda; there were numbers of poorer
folk in check cotton lyungis, above which the brown
skin showed at the waist below the jacket, which was
sometimes figured with a little sprig like a housemaid's
gown. A particularly hideous magenta check seemed
the favourite pattern with the men, and often a much
worn short coat of European pattern replaced the engie;
a weather-stained umbrella was a constant adjunct.
All the women walk splendidly, which is no doubt
because from earliest childhood they carry chatties and
other heavy things on their heads, and in the wide
alleys of the Shwe Dagon their royal walk is seen to
great advantage. Their slippers are heelless and very
heavy, with a leather sole; the toe-cap is 1nade either
by a simple cross band or is of velvet; the difficulty of
keeping these shoes on is probably the reason of the
sliding step or shuffle so often to be noticed. These
shoes are sometimes so absurdly small that the little
toe must perforce remain outside the cap, and the heel
falls beneath the instep. Stockings are not worn by
the women.
There was so much to see at the pagoda that I could
have wandered all day about its courts. In one place
there was a man with a kind of draught-board before
him · trying to tempt the people to come and stake
on it ; he rattled coins together and called out in
a loud voice occasionally; what the nature of the
gamble was I could not find out. Also there was
a clever lean-faced fortune-teller, who dealt out horo
scopes on palm-leaf fibre marvellously engraved with
weird devices made by a sharp point. His face
inspired respect, and I had my fortune told from my
hand; the interpreter translated much which was satis
factory, including one characteristic item that I was
going to have "plenty money to buy el'phants." There
was a man sitting at a stall selling water to drink;
there were nuns with shaven heads looking exactly like
men: and poongyis or monks in yellow robes. This
particular colour, a rather dull but intense yellow, is
a relief among so much pink and red.
When I at last tore myself away from the pagoda,
I saw yet one other sight on the way home, for I met
a dancing, yelling crowd, with bel1s ringing and flags
waving. From the noise and the beating of tom
toms I thought it was some festival procession. In
the midst was a canopy of scarlet with little pennons
fluttering from it, and at the end of each pennon was
a bell which rang in the wind. All of a sudden I had
a glimpse of an emaciated, still body, so scantily covered
that the sharp outlines were plain to see beneath that
canopy, and at one end, uncovered and raised, the
sunken face of a corpse of a ghastly hue-the native
brown turned sickly green. A more gruesome contrast
could hardly have been found than this affectation
of merriment and that poor clay. It was a Hindu
funeral.
CHAPTER III
BURMESE LADIES AT HOME
AcRoss the grey waters of the Gulf of Martaban, nearly

a day's journey by steamer, lies Mouhnein, once the
headquarters of the English occupation, when, after the
first Burmese War, England held only Arakan and
Tenasserim. It was seven o'clock in the morning when
we started from the wharf after a rather cheerless
awakening before the sun was up. Even under the
blue sky and strong sun of midday the waters of the
gulf are never anything but grey, owing to the mud and
silt brought down by the waters of the three great rivers,
the Irrawaddy, Sittang, and Salween. It was four in the
afternoon before we came in sight of the high green
ridge upon the slopes of which l\Ioulmein is built,
and the scene grew more and more interesting as we
approached. In midstream were one or two steamers
on which coolies were loading teak ; their brown bodies
and red loin-cloths and turbans glowed bright in the
sunlight. The water front was edged with unlovely
mills and wharves, including a large one belonging to
the Bombay Burma Trading Corporation, of which my
host was a manager. Behind these the houses were
dotted about amid a fine growth of trees right up the
10
THE GAl\IESTER
11
111.\J-I KIN LE .\NI> DAUGIITEI{ <p. 521

BURMESE LADIES AT HOME 41
slopes of the ridge, which ran parallel with the river, .
and was crowned with no less than three groups of
pagodas. I could see at once that Moulmein might be
a much pleasanter place to live in than Rangoon, and I
hoped I should see as much as I wanted to of the
inside of Burman life. I had an advantage in this, an
advantage that many people who have lived for years
in the country cannot command, for my hostess, Mrs.
M., had made friends with the best class of Burmese
ladies, and regularly called upon them, and invited
them to see her, a thing that very few Europeans would
think of doing. It is, indeed, owing to her help in this
and in many other things that I was able to get an idea
of the life of the people at all.
It is really surprising, considering the intrinsic
interest of Moulmein, and the many excursions trat
may be easily made from it, how few people find their
way there. What tourists come to the country at all
almost invariably stay a day in Rangoon, go on up to
Mandalay and back by the river ; ten or twelve days is
considered enough for Burma, and yet if they only took
the trouble to find out how much they miss by this
rush, they would probably stay longer. The steamers
across the gulf are very comfortable, and run three times
a week. In the town is a boarding house, " Salween
House," and a dak bungalow, and though the accommo
dation is not brilliant it will serve.
At the wharf was a babbling crowd through which
we had to pass before we drove away to Mrs. M.'s
bungalow. This stood high above Salween Park, which
is very like an English park in general, though the trees
F
are all of different kinds from ours. Later I learned
to recognise some of them : banyan, gold mohur, am
herstia, padouk, and so on. The bungalow itself is very
pretty, built, as they almost all are, of rich dark brown
teak-wood, which has a grain in it like oak. In front
stood two glorious masses of contrasting colour, a large
bush of plumbago simply covered with blossom, ana a
huge poinsettia much higher than a tall man. The
whole of the front of the bungalow is open, and a stair
case leads from the lower verandah to the upper one,
which is used as the sitting-room. In the rains heavy
mat blinds fill in the open sides, but while I was there,
except for the roof overhead we might have been out of
doors. The bedrooms all open into one another, and
each has its bath-room or bath-closet attached. The
Anglo-Burman bathroom is very simple, but not at all
inconvenient. There is generally a large oval tin bath
-though sometimes one only gets a ·wooden tub-two
or three great earthenware chatties full of cold water,
to be ladled out by a dipper as required, and the sweeper
brings up the hot water by an outside staircase when he
has heated it in kerosene tins over a wood fire in the
compound. The floor is of wood or cement, there is
nothing to spoil, and you may splash as you like. In
fact in some bathrooms, built out on piles from the side
of the bungalow, holes are bored in the floor to let the
surplus water run away like a shower bath beneath!
And in one place at least where the bathroom was on
the ground, the same end was achieved by simply
emptying the bath on to the floor and letting it sink in
or stream off as it pleased! Kerosene tins are a staple of
life in Burma, they are used in almost every conceivable
capacity. The native carries water in them; he uses
them as cauldrons in which to heat it; he ladles out
water with them; he keeps stores in them; he even
occasionally packs his small belongings in one when he
travels, using it as a portable trunk! Up at Bhamo I
saw a house built of kerosene tins flattened out. It is
an awful thing to think what would happen if the im
ported oil were suddenly to be sent into the country in
bottles or in some other form of receptacle. That no
taps are found in the ordinary bungalow goes without
saying, every drop of water has to be carried up from
the well in the compound if there is one, and if that
runs dry, then from the nearest hydrant; but it is a
country where labour is cheap: it is one man's life-work
to carry water, and nothing is thought about it. For
drinking purposes every house has a filter, but soda
water is almost universally used, and is half the price it
is in England.
While I stayed at Moulmein we had the French
hours for meals, which I found so convenient that
afterwards when I travelled about alone I adopted
them. That is to say, they are convenient in a country
where the middle of the day is too hot to work in
comfort, they would not do at all in England. We
had chota hazri, with some addition such as potted
meat or an egg, before rising; dejeuner at 11.30 or 12;
tea about 4.30, and dinner at 8. This gives one the
opportunity of using all the available time in the day.
The servants, who are natives of India, are hired on a
totally different system from ours. They get their own
food; in some places an allowance of rice is made to them,
but they do not use the house food at all. They sleep
out in a go-down in the compound. They have no
days off. The "butler " is the most important, and
receives from twenty-five to thirty rupees a month;
under him there may be a second "boy," who gets
about twenty rupees; but in many houses there are just
the butler and the "chokrah," who acts as second boy,
�elps to wait at table and goes messages. The native
cook gets about twenty-five rupees per month, the ayah
about twenty. The ayah in this family was a most
hardworking little woman; she rather embarrassed me
by laying hands on every available garment and washing
it and hanging it on the back verandah to dry in the
sun. At first I was often at a loss, and turned every
thing upside down in a hasty search for the missing
thing, but at last I learnt to be quite sure I should find
it hanging on the rail near the big mango in which the
crows sat and squawked like parrots. Some of these
ayahs are wonderful masseuses, the art being passed
from mother to daughter; this one was no exception to
the rule. I had had a blow on my heel from a skittle
ball on board ship, and it still hurt me. I showed it to
her, but instead of massaging the actual spot, she ran
her fingers up to a most painful muscle or ligament,
of which I had not before been aware, and kneaded
it so determinedly that it was not exactly enjoyable.
Still, in three days she did it a vast amount of good.
She seemed to have the same intuitive knowledge of
bones, joints, and muscles as the "bone-setters,"
and I was told that she was not exceptional. She was
always full of mystery, coming and going like a shadow,
stealing into my room with her finger on her lip. She
could not speak a word of English. One day she came
and knelt in a little heap outside my mosquito curtains
and poured out a low mumble of Burmese which, of
course, I could not understand, but at last I caught the
word "kelow," which I knew meant baby; in fact, it
was and is the only Burmese word I know, and I
guessed she wanted to show me her baby, of which I
had heard. So I signified assent and she hastened away
to return presently with as poor a little shrivelled mite
as ever I saw. It looked almost too wizened and
monkey-like to be human. Its father was some wretched
lad who had gone off leaving wife and child. It was
difficult not to show in my face the repulsion with which
the poor little thing inspired me, while the mother looked
down on it in the tenderest pride. The little woman never
could understand that I spoke no Burmese ; she always
seemed to think, if she only talked enough, some of it
would penetrate, and she emphasised all she said by
quick nods and abundant gestures. She was a good,
energetic little soul.
The three lowest indoor servants are the sweeper,
who does the dirty work, the panni-wallah, who brings
the water for baths, and the cook's matey, who helps
where he is told. Of these the sweeper is always of
the lowest caste. Their wages vary from about seven
to fourteen rupees a month.
The outdoor servants include coachman and syce : also
the dhobi, or washing man, who in all better families
is regularly engaged at about twenty-five rupees a
month, in addition to his soap; he does the washing in
the compound, and gets up muslins and frills amazingly
well considering his limited resources. It is just as well
to have your clothes done under your own inspection,
for some of the washing-places where the village dhobies
do congregate, to clash the garments on the stones, the
universal substitute for a "posh-tub," are anything but
clean, and a horrible ailment called dhobi-itch is
common. Many of the dhobies I saw were attractive
looking men clad in spotless linen. At Moulmein I
could look out of 1ny window and see the house dhobi,
all in white with silver bangles on his wrists, beating
the clothes on two stones, while beside him was the
panni-wallah clothed in a red loin-cloth, with gold
earrings and a chignon, drawing water from the well,
and near at hand was a picturesque group of plantains.
The price of washing to an outsider is reasonable
enough, about five rupees a hundred pieces, but it should
be arranged beforehand, as the men will ask any price
they think they can get. One can generally have
washing done in a day or two if moving on, but it is
always well to employ a dhobi recommended by
some one.
The dhursi, or tailor, is not an invariable adjunct to a
house; but a lady very often has her own dhursi, and
pays him fr01n twenty-five to thirty rupees a month.
The dhursies seemed to me, as a rule, not nearly so
attractive as the dhobies; they were often coarse and
greasy-looking. They are very quick-fingered, and
copy anything set them marvellously, but are quite
unable to originate or suggest. The malli, or gardener,
has not the same standing as his kind in England ; he
probably acts for several houses, and part of his work is
to cut grass for the horses by contract. Then there is .
the derwan, or night watchman, an important func
tionary in a country where there are no front doors to
lock and the verandah is the living-room, open to any
one. It is doubtful if the derwan has ever done much,
but the knowledge that he is there, and may be awake,
probably acts preventively in a land where men are not
very brave.
What I enjoyed most of all during my delightful
time at Moulmein was meeting Burmese ladies on social
terms. On Christmas Day, as we were coming back
from an early service in church-where punkahs were
kept swinging, where nearly every one wore topees, and
the decorations were almost wholly of pink and white
roses-we encountered the principal Burmese lady in
Moulmein, Mah Shwe Bwin, and her adopted son and
daughter-in-law coming up to call.' Mah Shwe Bwin
means Mrs. Golden Blooming. In Burmese courtesy
titles a woman is always Mah, which means either Mrs.
or Miss; an old woman is, however, called Amaigyi.
A young Burman is at first a lugale, or boy; then he is
addressed as Moung, which really means brother, but
has come to signify Mr.; after about forty years of age
·a man is addressed as Ko, and still older as Oo; if he
grow to be very old and very much respected he is
Apogyi; whereas any one who builds a rest-house has
the title of Zeyat Payah-Zeyat meaning a rest-house
-and any one who builds a shrine, is Payah Tagah.
Burmese words have so many different meanings that it
is often difficult to fix the exact intention of a name ;
for instance, the little house ayah was Mah Mo, which
might mean either .l\irs. or Miss, Mushroom, Rain, or
Roof I Mah Shwe Bwin I quickly learned to love and
respect; she is one of the real old aristocrats of Burma,
and in her manners and appearance you feel all the time
that she is a gentlewoman. I never met any one else
with whom to compare her while I was in the country.
She is a widow and enormously rich, owning mills and
transacting business matters ; but she cannot speak
English, and has always to have an interpreter.
Luckily in lV[oulmein this is not difficult, for so many
of the young Burmans attend the English schools that
nearly all boys of fifteen or so speak English. Mah
Shwe Bwin was very plainly dressed, without a scrap of
jewellery, for it is the custom for the Burmese ladies to
pass their jewellery on to their daughters-in-law when
they arrive at about forty, which is comparatively much
older than with us, as married life begins about sixteen.
She was dressed in a dark bronze flowered lyungi, and a
little white jacket, with a pretty scarf of light muslin,
covered with green spots, thrown over her shoulders,
and she wore pink satin shoes with a divided strap
passing between the first two toes. 'The adopted son
was a short fat man, in a gorgeous pink silk putsoe of
a large check pattern. He had left his patent-leather
shoes and silk socks at the foot of the staircase. The
wearing of European shoes by " Young Burma" makes
this 1natter of shoe-dropping a difficult one; but, in
spite of this, no really well-mannered Burman would
think of coming into a room, where there were ladies,
12
MAH SHWE BWI!-1

13
�1.\1-1 Sl!WI, H\\'IN AT Till·: IHHll(

UF HER Slll<l:s/1·: (p. 561
in shoes, any more. than a well-mannered Englishman
would come in wearing a hat. Here, as in so many
other cases, the newer code is ousting the older one and
giving nothing in place of it. A Burman cannot
remove his turban, in fact this in itself would be an act
of disrespect ; yet he keeps on his English shoes, and so
discards his own manners without replacing them by
ours. It is also not considered polite for a man to sit in
the presence of ladies, and I must say Mah Shwe Bwin's
son was very polite. However, he was not agile in the
English tongue, and as an interpreter lacked a good
deal ; to me, unaccustomed to Burmese methods, to
have to carry on the conversation in scraps with a man
who stood all the time was constraining. Indeed, I
found this matter of conversation a great difficulty.
Topics were strictly limited, the replies were even more
so, and it was impossible to go on asking questions all
the time. The old lady had brought plantains, oranges,
fancy biscuits, and a cake in a tin box as presents, and
when we had discussed these and a few other things I
stopped altogether, and yet there was so much I wanted
to ask our guests. If I could have talked direct to the old
lady herself how much better I could have got on I At
last, as a happy thought, I brought in some Burmese silks
I had bought, and this, aroused interest; they examined
them all carefully, fingering them, trying the texture and
asking the price, which is always a polite thing to do.
I was pleased to hear I had paid " not too much." The
silk I had got to make up into a lyungi for myself
attracted special attention; it was of a glorious red-gold
or· ��sturtium colour, which would have been quite
G
i1npossible to match in England. I asked how I should
judge what width of material to use for the lyungi, and
was told the correct thing was to take as much as would
go folded round the waist, and as much again as
reached, doubled, to the tip of the middle finger, when
the elbow was pressed in to the waist, in fact the old
1neasure of a cubit. At length, as I had hoped, the
ladies kindly offered to take away the silk and make the
garment for me, for which I was very grateful, as then
l was sure it would be correctly done. I then asked if
I might take a photo of Mah Shwe Bwin, and after
some gentle protest, on the ground that her clothes
were not good enough, she consented, and we went
into the sunlight of the lower verandah.
Unfortunately the photograph, though clear, does
not give any idea of that wise, shrewd, kindly face.
\7\Then we shook hands, English fashion, in parting, she
asked us to come and see her, and promised to take us
to see the shrine which she was having built.
She subsequently carried out her promise of making
me the lyungi, and sent it to me, and then, finding she
had inadvertently retained a piece of the silk which was
over, she returned it with the following little note,
evidently written for her by her son or grandson :
" DEAR MADAM,-! am very sorry to forget to send
this pease of cloth. Now I saw in my box at once I send
to you. Please excuse me. I close my letter with loved.
"MAH SHWE BWIN."
Anything more gloomy and uncomfortable than a

wealthy Burman's house it would be hard to find ; they
seem to have adopted all the worst features of the
English house and discovered none of its comfort. I
went with Mrs. M. one day to call on some very wealthy
·Burmans, money-lenders, who were not aristocrats like
Mah Shwe Bwin, but had made their money recently.
The house outside looked like a square solid brick
and-cement mansion in an early Victorian style in two
stories. There was a sort of verandah or stoep in front
roofed in, and from this the front door opened immedi
ately into the living-room, which occupied the whole
area between the principal four walls. There was no win
dow in it at all, and the only light came from the front
door. On the far side of the room was a corresponding
door leading to back premises, and very dark. The
room was paved with cement, and was very high and
dismal. There was a round wooden table, that might
in England be used for a kitchen table, in the middle,
and several hard-backed chairs and a few small sofas,
covered with dust-cloths, set back against the wall, as a
concession to European taste. The Burman, of course,
always prefers to sit on the floor ; it is only the boys at
the English schools who are learning the use of seats.
One corner of the room was partitioned off, and we were
told that there lay the master of the house, who was ill.
The Burman has a very strong prejudice against having
any one's feet over his head, and consequently the upper
storey is not used when it is avoidable ; yet here a
wooden staircase or ladder led upward through a sort
of trap in the ceiling, so perhaps some members of the
family slept upstairs.
We had not forewarned our friends of our coming,
and consequently caught them unawares, but even then
the daughter, who is about eighteen and newly married,
was wearing double diamonds as a species of links all
down the front of her little engie, and each one was as
large as a finger-nail. I could not believe at first they
were diamonds, but was assured of it, as no Burman
would wear any imitation jewellery. They were prob
ably not of the first water, might be yellowish in colour,
but diamonds they were. Otherwise she was not prettily
dressed, and she promised to come and see us when she
had all her jewellery and best clothes on, a promise she
kept. She seemed a mere little doll, fit only for the
wearing of jewellery, and was a contrast to her sensible
looking mother.
My visit to Burma dissipated finally the idea of the
Burman girls being " pretty " according to our ideas.
They are sometimes dear coquettish little things, with a
great deal of charm and some personality, but to apply
the word "pretty " to their broad noses, flat little faces,
thanaka-stained, and to the straight, strained, greased
hair, is a misuse of adjectives. 'raking, charming, gra
cious, alluring, are all in the right place applied to them ;
bnt. not pretty. Sir J. G. Scott expresses this very
well in saying of Japanese and Burmese women alike:
"lloth have the power of beauty without the possession
of it."
I found conversation here a difficulty also. There was
a boy of about fifteen, a son of Mah Kin Le, the old lady,
and he interpreted ; but I could not get on easily. The
ladies solemnly inquired my age, where I came from,
H
T\\"0 RElTER-CLASS BURMESE GIRLS (f. 67)

15
M.\JN STHEJ·:T, .\IUUUIJilN

how much my clothes cost, and several other personal
details, and then the silence became oppressive. I in
my turn inquired of the boy, whose name was Moung
Ba, when he would be married. He told me at about
twenty, and that his father would choose his wife, and
that afterwards he would go and live at the house of his
father-in-law. That he did not learn to do anything
particular, because his work in life would be the same as
his father's-in-law, and he did not know yet what it
would be 1 That he would be free to say no if he did
not like the girl, but he would never in any case see her
unchaperoned until they were married. In reply to my
questions as to the usual household arrangements, and
how the ladies employed themselves, he said they had
two meals a day, one at nine in the morning, after which
the ladies " prayed" for about an hour, and another at
four in the afternoon. That the ladies preserved ginger
and sewed to fill up their days. I give his replies un
adorned. It is difficult to gather any but the crudest
notions from an Eastern boy speaking in an imperfectly
known tongue. Of course one hears always that the
married women in Burma do a great deal of business,
and even the unmarried girls keep stores in the bazaar;
but Moung Ba told me that after the ear-boring cere
mony, i.e., when she is of a marriageable age, no girl is
allowed to go about alone.
We did not stay long here, passing on to fulfil our
promise to Mah Shwe Bwin. Her front room was
the facsimile of that we had just left, except that very
high up on the walls were some marvellous native
pictures, done in the most gorgeous colours, and utterly
innocent of perspective. They were partly painted,
partly worked in silk, and they were lavishly decorated
with spangles of gold. Two of these were old and came
from Mandalay, she told us. She sat on her chair in a
funny little hump with her feet tucked up under her.
It is perfectly amazing how the Bunnese ladies stow
away their lower limbs-they seem reduced to a trunk
only, ahnost as if they had the power of telescoping I
A very pleasant unaffected lad of sixteen undertook
the office of interpreter ; he told me he was called
l\iloung Api, and I think he was a grandson of Mah
Shwe Bwin. He was very simply dressed in a thin
merino English vest and cotton lyungi, with his hair
cropped like that of an English boy.
The conversation went on something in this style:
"Has Mah Shwe Bwin any daughters?"
" Yes, three."
" Do they live here?"
"No-not two."
" In Moulmein?"
"No."
" Are they married?"
"They are dead."
Thus abruptly ended that topic. I was told after
wards that " dead " may equally mean disgraced, or dead
to family.
In the pause that ensued the old lady said something
to the boy, who hesitated and looked at me shyly, but
after encouragement he came across and said to me in
his soft voice :
" She wants to know what does your husband?"
"Tell her I have no husband."
On receipt of this information there followed a long
silence. The old lady's face became perceptibly more
solemn ; then she said something, and the boy in his
graceful, timid way informed me :
" She says she is praying for you 1 "
Luckily refreshments appeared at this moment, when
it was difficult to preserve a becoming gravity, and
formed a welcome break ; they consisted of plantains,
oranges, lemonade, and for adornment bunches of a small
and rather dull orchid, which must have been common,
as every little school-child had a spray of it in her hair.
Then we were told we might go to see the wonderful
shrine Mah Shwe Bwin is building. She and another
woman, who seemed a kind of family retainer, or poor
relation, and the boy went in a gharry ; we followed in
the carriage.
We had to dismount at the foot of the ridge and walk
up a steep and rugged track, which the frail-looking
little old lady took slowly ; my heart warmed to her,
she looked so small in her tightly-wound lyungi, and
her face was so humorous and sensible that I would
very willingly have kissed her, and all feeling as between
myself and a coloured race had vanished. The ascent
was not long, and we came out on to a flat space,
where numbers of native coolies, working at the roof
of the shrine, were passing up and down a wide bamboo
ladder.
So we went in, and saw the great image of a colossal
Buddha of shining brass with a gold head. Moung Api
explained in awestruck whispers that this was no mask,
56 A .BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
but a head of solid gold right through, and for sanctity
none could compare with it but the Buddha in the
Arakan pagoda, near Mandalay. He told me at first
there were 100 viss of gold in the head, but came
back later to correct himself and say he had meant
I OOO. One thousand viss equals 365 lb. weight of gold,
and reckoning it at £3 17s. 6d. the ounce this comes
out between £16,000 and £17,000, which is surely
stupendous. I am told, however, that Mah Shwe Bwin
did not pay for it all herself, though the greater part
came from her; at the casting, when Mrs. M. was
present, there was a great ceremony, and tremendous
excitement and religious fervour, so that men gave
money and girls tore off their bangles and earrings and
threw them into the melting-pot.
Many offerings of the usual sort were heaped before
the Buddha, who had rather an expressionless face as
Buddhas go, and when I asked the boy what was the
significance of the two hideous figures which stood on
each side, he replied :
"No meaning, only for agreeable."
The light was fast going, but I got a photograph of
the little old lady as she sat crouched up by the door of
her shrine, with a wonderful spiritual fervour in her
expression. To look at her in her spartan simplicity of
dress, one might have thought her almost a beggar, and
then one remembered the gold so lavishly poured out,
and the contrast was piquant.
As we passed down she suggested we should rest in
one of the rest-houses near, and I asked that I might
go on to the nearest and largest of the three pagodas
16
THE BOY AND THE BF.LL, OLD PAGOD . .\

MOULMEI!\ (p, 65)
17
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SCENES IN 'J'J-JE l.ll'E OF TI-It HUDl>l-lA

OLU PJ\COU.'\, �IOUI.MEli'<i rp. 65)
n the ridge with · Moung Api for guide, while the
thers waited instead of climbing the terrific flights of
stairs that l�d up to it. I was glad to get this oppor
tunity of talking to an intelligent lad, but I fear I did
not make so much of it as another might have done.
He told me long tales of nats and beloos (spirits and
devils) which I could not follow. He showed me two
representations of the latter, real bogies, on the stairway,
and said they were the kind that haunted dark woods.
He pointed out the tall praying columns, and said they
were to the" heaven-born nats." He told me he was
very soon going through the novitiate in the priesthood,
which every Burman undergoes, and before which he is
not considered a man, but an animal. He said some boys
went for three months, and seven days was the very
least time you could give with self-respect; the pro
bation is generally done during the holidays. I asked
him if, when a boy became a real monk, it was because
is father willed it, or because he wanted to be one him
self, and he replied that, as a rule, it was the father's
oing, but the father would not choose a boy who was
"not good." He was careful to explain that the
Burmans do not worship Buddha, the images are only
to remind them and make them think; they do not
elieve them to be alive. I was rather amused when
e launched out on a topic of his own, and said one
thing had always puzzled him, and that was that the
Englishmen in the I. C. S. who had passed high examina
tions in Burmese often could not speak it at all. He
instanced one man, a friend of my own, in whose office he
ad been and said, " He has passed very good examina
H
tions, but he does not speak ; not at all ; even in the
court he has an interpreter ; I do not think he knows."
I did not give the boy away when I met his superior
again ! I liked him particularly ; he was quite untainted
with the modern affectations, and during all my wander
ings, in which I met many Burmese boys, I never
came across one who appealed to me so much as
1\1oung Api.
Mah Kin Le and her son and daughter were not long
in paying us the promised return call, and when I saw
the girl's jewellery, I was positively startled by it. The
huge diamond links still figured pr01ninently in her
jacket, and she wore also earrings and rings set with
i1nmense stones. Her bangles were flat bars of gold,
a mass of diamonds, and a large diamond pin impaled
her topknot of hair ; all these stones are set in a way
that appears to us clumsy, and which certainly does not
show them off to advantage ; that is to say, they have
the point outwards, and stand on a sort of little plat
fonn of very solid gold, so the effect is that of a minia
ture pyramid. The daughter, whose name is Mah Mya
Hnit, was, besides her jewellery, excessively smart,
wearing a pink silk-figured lyungi, pink scarf and China
silk engie, diversified by a little blue pattern. Her face
was thickly daubed with thanaka paste, so as to make
her look quite fair; when put on carefully, this stuff is
not offensive, as it has a slightly fragrant smell, but
when left in a clumsy line across the forehead at the
roots of the hair, as is done by many girls, it is like an
ugly mask. Her hair was very shiny and bound into
the tightest little knob. The boy, who had an intelli-
gent face, round bright brown eyes, and rather thick
lips, like his sister, was a finished specimen of " Young
Burma." He was dressed in a rainbow silk lyungi
for boys do not wear a putsoe until they are married
-an ordinary white English shirt, with diamond studs
and gold sleeve-links; over this was a white Burmese
jacket. His gold watch chain was very much in evi
dence, and also his yellow leather lace-up shoes, which
he did not remove downstairs. He sat while he talked,
and his manners contrasted very unfavourably with
those of Moung Api. The older lady smoked a big
green cheroot solemnly the whole time she stayed. I
offered her and her daughter my own cigarettes and
they took them, but the girl did not get on with hers,
and after a while Mah Kin Le explained that her
daughter was not much of a s1noker, and she took the
cigarette from her and finished it after her own, resum
ing later her own green cheroot, which had lain slowly
burning on the edge of the table near her all the time !
These cheroots are not made of pure tobacco, but of the
pith of a tree which looks like sawdust ; this is mixed
with a little tobacco and ginger and perhaps opium, and
the peculiar smoke made in burning is sharp and acrid.
It is the funniest sight to see the little Burmese ladies
making their by no means large mouths into round
holes for the insertion of the mighty end. We gave
our guests soda water among other refreshments, and
when I saw them drink it, I feared they must have
thought me sadly lacking in manners, for I did not
make the appreciative grumbles and grunts in the truly
courteous way after drinking. When I asked them
they willingly consented to be photographed, and our
going downstairs to take them broke up a sitting which
had become almost insupportably wearying, as they
stayed nearly two hours. \Vhen Mr. M. came in he
said that it was our own fault ; they could not go until
we made the move 1
CHAPTER IV
WANDERINGS IN MOULMEIN
THE Oriental cannot understand how any man, much

less any woman, can desire to walk about for pleasure ;
to him the fact of a lady's sauntering about unattended
is derogatory to her dignity and implies that she is not
of much consequence. I felt this all over Burma in
greater or less degree, and chafed under it; up-country
I always took the boy with me, and grew sufficiently
accustomed to his presence not to mind it, but certainly
to walk attended even by a solemn Madrassee has not
quite the same charm as being quite alone. In
Mouhnein and Maymyo I was more free than in other
places; Maymyo is so thoroughly English that English
customs are accepted unquestioningly, and Moulmein
has been so long in the possession of the English, and
there are so many Europeans living in it, that English
manners and customs are at all events understood. It
was therefore not impossible to go about alone, though
unusual. The bungalow I was staying in was on the
outskirts of the town, which made the matter easier,
for the ridge rose straight up behind, so it was attained
without having to pass through any streets, and it was a
capital place for a walk.
In the early mornings I used to go up there, and
look down the other side upon a rolling plain traversed
by the river Ataran. Far out in the plain rose huge
lumps of detached limestone rock sharp as razors along
the top, giving a most peculiar effect; they rose as
rocks rise from the sea, sheer without intermediate
slopes. In one of these is the famous Farm Caves
which I afterwards visited, and many of them are
honeycombed with similar caves as yet unexplored.
I used to take the ca1nera with me on these wander
ings in case I met any likely subject, but the place was
very quiet and I did not often meet any one. Once I
saw a bullock cart of the lighter sort driven by a
Burman who had his two children with him. I had
already grown to recognise a certain type of Burman,
the man with a shrewd kindly expression that made
you feel you could trust him and make friends with
him. This 1nan looked so amiable that I signalled to
him to stop, and by gesticulations explained I wanted
to take his photo. We carried on the conversation by
signs for some minutes, and any one who had seen us
thus animatedly conversing in dumb show would have
been amused to hear him remark in perfectly good
English as the shutter snapped, "Will you send me
one?"
The photo came out well and I did send him one; I
hope he appreciated it.
One day I wandered down the far side of the ridge
into the plain below, I passed two unfinished pagodas
guarded by the usual red-eyed leogryphs. By the side
of one of them was a large weather-stained gamp
WANDERINGS IN MOULMEIN 63
umbrella, and the voice of the Burman to whom it
belonged came to me in a monotonous sing-song as he
made his devotions. The Burman is not supposed to
pray Moung Api had told me, but merely to refresh
his memory by repeating the law, and he should offer
praise, but there is no doubt that 1 heir devotions are
indistinguishable from prayers. Human nature could
not live by repetition and praise alone. Further on I
passed a poongyi with his begging bowl on his morning
round. At the same time a snake startled me by
gliding across the path right under my feet, but a native
woman ran to look at it, and showed by signs it was
harmless. The plain at the base of the hill was grassy
and open, cut up by wheel-tracks and lined by a tangle
of scrubby bushes, so that on the whole it had a good
deal the appearance of a Surrey common. On exam
ination, however, every single plant and tree is different
from those to which we are accustomed, it is only at a
distance or in the mass such a delusion is possible. The
ground at my feet was covered with large richly
coloured deep red pods belonging to a mighty fig-tree.
This shaded a group of Zeyats, or rest-houses, put up
for the accommodation of those who came to carry out
the last ceremonies in connection with their friends'
burial, for the Burmese burial-ground was close at
hand. The graves were mostly unmarked, but some
had hideous heavy altar tombs singularly resembling
those to be seen in English churchyards.
I did not however often wander down the hill into
the plain, I preferred to walk along the heights of the
ridg� with the rolling plain lying spread out at my feet
like a map. These heights are crowned by three set._
f pagodas. The nearest of them rises high above tht:
athway, and can only be reached by a flight of steep
nd precipitous steps of red brick much broken an
orn. The platform surrounding the pagoda is alsc
Id and crumbled, with grass springing up between th
tones. The fascination of the place is indescribable.
I went there many times, for there I could be utterly
lone, perched high on the very crown of the hill, wit
the majestic blue distances spreading before me t
eeming infinity. As I sat here on New Year's Day I
could hear the tinkling of the pagoda bells high over
ead in the ethereal blue, ringing sharply sweet abov
the tearing sound made by the wind in the broad-leave
alms. Pagoda bells were one of the most satisfactory
fulfilments of anticipation. They are set on the metal
tee or umbrella which crowns the spire of every pagoda
and are rung by the action of the wind as it wafts past
them. The sound is sometimes unheard, for it may b
lost in the noise of the throng below ; and if the pagod
be in a sheltered spot, the tongues are not easily move
to utterance, but here, out on the high hillside, with n
scrambling of feet or droning of voices to dull their
magic, they spoke straight to the heart of me, telling I
know not what strange secrets of the East. Sometime
they clashed all together, and then there was heard
the sleepy tinkle of one dropping to silence, gently
sighing away, but before it quite ceased another rang
ut thin, sweet and insistent as if it would be heard, and
quite suddenly the sound broke off-the bells had told
enou h I
18
A BURMESE BURIAL PLACE, MOULMEll\"

i'.)
MOUNG KA IN HIS BULLOCK CAl<T

The old pagoda was once gilt all ove_r, but is now
sadly worn and dilapidated; the gold leaf has peeled off,
leaving great patches.. As I sat and looked at it the far
away voices of the little scholars came faintly wafting
upward from the poongyi choung down below, and a
salmon-pink flower fell silently from its slender stem on
a hybiscus drooping over the parapet near.
I wandered round and peeped into the four shrines
which flank the pagoda at the four cardinal points. White
and dim images of colossal Buddhas peered back at me.
At various places on the platform are large sacred
bells slung between two uprights; a mop-headed boy,
who had apparently sprung out of the pavement, con
sented to stand by one pillar as I photographed the bell.
After this he followed me round, and whenever he got
a chance peered into the camera at about two inches
distance, as if he expected to' find a picture of himself
there ! In a sort of shed running along two sides at an
angle is a weird and interesting set of carved wooden
figures, about a third life-size, representing scenes in the
life of the Buddha. I got a photograph of this too by
giving the film a longish exposure. The meaning of
the figures I do not know; there are three shiny black
ones, almost skeletons, that must have a curious story
attached to them.
Further along the ridge, at a - considerable distance,
is the White pagoda, which is of dome or bell shape,
and having been recently re-coated with white chunam,
it ab�olutely shines out against the brilliant sky. I
saw it several times, once in the evening, when it
glowed.
with the reflection of the orange-yellow light;
I
huge crows, seated in the niches, looked colossal by the
contrast of their sable on the snow, while the brown skins
of the poongyis and the dusky yellows of their robes
were startling against the purity of the background.
The last and most important pagoda on this ridge is that
I had already visited with Moung Api. It stands very
high and is reached by steep flights of steps; those on
the side away from the town are extraordinarily pre
cipitous and make one shudder to look down them.
The sunsets at Moulmein I never saw equalled any
where else, not even in the Red Sea. We used often
to drive in the evenings along the Strand or river front,
a broad road which is the fashionable Moulmein pro
menade. It is not an attractive place, for, being shut in
by the houses and the ridge on the land side, it gets no
breeze. The way is rendered perilous by the bicycles
ridden by Eurasian boys and girls, on either side of
the road, without the least regard to rules, and by badly
driven ticca gharries crammed with Burmans, while
the dust rises in clouds. But the sunsets seen across
the wide river redeem all. The pink of these is not the
same salmon pink we are accustomed to associate with
sunsets in England, but a rose-coloured flush, often
running into pale yellow. Well have I since understood
why a particular kind of Jap kimono in yellow silk over
a pink lining is called an" evening sky" kimono. Many
Burmese silks seem to have been steeped in sunsets;
one of a gorgeous apricot colour, to be bought in
Mandalay, turns lemon-yellow in certain lights, and has
warm shadows, a fact not wholly accounted for by dis
covering that the threads of the warp are of pink set in
a saffron woof. Occasionally the sunsets took the form
of expanding bars of light-radiating like the spokes of a
wheel, clear cut as red-hot iron.
One morning I begged the services of Mrs. M.'s
second " boy "-whom I afterwards engaged as my
own retainer-to act as interpreter, and sallied forth
into the town to try to get a few photographs of street
scenes. Any one who has tried in like circumstances
will know the difficulties I had to contend with. The
drawback of a too powerful sun was paramount. We
would enter a long street and find one side, the sunny
side, lying white and bare and deserted, and the other,
black by reason of the heavy shadow, alive with people.
There were little brown girls with babies on their hips,
old grandmothers sitting in doorways, children sprawling
in the roadway with pariah dogs, all in deep shade. To
stop and ask, through the interpreter, that they would
keep still while I took a photograph by exposure, had
one of two results : either they fled like frightened
rabbits, or the more educated, understanding the
camera, stood bolt upright like ramrods and all natural
ness in the picture was lost. If only one were invisible
it would not be so difficult, but the sight of my standing
ready with the camera was enough to make them all
uncomfortable and stiff. At length I saw two well
dressed girls get out of a gharry and go into a store, so
I followed them and asked them if they would be
taken; one assented cheerfully, the other required some
persuasion, but both were as stiff as bolts when the
shutter was snapped. I came across another group
after much wandering, and by explaining the situation
through the boy at great length, got them to stand
still. Just as I was about to take the photo, a proud
father thrust a hideous little native boy of about three
years old, dressed in a peaked cap and a serge sailor
suit three sizes too big for him, and with a startling
hiatus of brown skin between tunic and knickers, into
the middle. I had to make signs that he should be
taken away, and to salve the parent's feelings explained
that I saw so many boys dressed like that in England
it was not interesting to me. Further on several girls,
who had been to the bazaar, were sitting on the shady
side of the street with their big baskets at their feet.
I tried to get them to move just a little way into the
sun. They laughed merrily, shaking their heads
violently, and as the refusal was evidently dictated by
coyness, I wasted a good deal of persuasion on them ;
by the time I gave them up in despair and turned away
I found the whole street blocked by a deeply interested
and attentive crowd, mostly composed of native coolies.
I hailed a gharry to get out of it, and let the gharry wallah
go where he pleased. Some distance away I passed a
better class house and saw s01ne well-to-do people with
two children outside. I was getting desperate at the
small result of such a tedious morning's work, so I
stopped the gharry, jumped out, and began the usual
explanations. These people were quite willing to
oblige me and responded at once, even understanding
my attempt to pose them by making one child sit
down. The younger one, by a delightful childish
gesture of nervousness at the moment of being taken,
made a very natural picture. Then we went on once
20
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NATIVE QUARTERS, MOULME!N

21
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UNFII\ISJlr,:n l'.\GUIJA, Ml>UI.MEIN (l, 631

more, the boy hanging on at the back of the gharry,
and presently came into the native quarter, a part
almost wholly given over to the natives of India, with
rows of similar tenements, open in front almost like
sheds. On one of these I saw advertised in English,
"Lodging-house for twenty persons, four rooms." As
the whole building was of the smallest, presumably one
room was divided into four by extempore partitions.
But so much of the life is carried on in the roadway
that floor space is not essential. In the mornings the
people perform their own or their children's toilets in
full view of all the passers-by. Truth to tell, there is
not much toilet to make where the children are con
cerned; a little check shirt, ending just where, accord
ing to European notions, it should begin, was quite a
grand dress; many of the little round-bodied, beady
eyed imps had nothing on at all save a string of beads
and few silver bangles. In the evenings groups of them
surround the hydrants, with their lank black hair falling
in soaked rats'-tails, their bare brown bodies shining
with the wet, dancing beneath the welcome gush of
cool water. Even men and women come to the hydrants,
though they always keep on their garments, which,
being of cotton, are none the worse for a wash at the
same time as their owners. 1'he little Burman girls of
six or seven wear lyu ngis like their parents, and it is a
comical sight to see them drawing them up and tucking
them in with all the skill and nonchalance of their
mothers.
The delights of Moulmein were many and varied ;
one was n1y first introduction to a box-wallah or native
silk 1nerchant, who brings round his wares to the
bungalows and untying mighty bales on the verandah
converts it into a sea of billowy waves of colour. The
man who came regularly to Mrs. M. 's house was a
swarthy ruffian called Sirroomull, a clever trader and
one honest according to his lights-or his self-interest.
He turned up one morning attended by two almost
naked coolies, who carried his goods, and when we
went down to the verandah we found him there com
placently settled for the whole day if we liked-no
hurry-the joy of sales lies in the bargaining, and the
Oriental would feel sadly defrauded of his rights if the
mem-sahib did not know enough to argue with him;
the pleasure of carrying off the money of a greenhorn
would hardly be compensation for the utter dulness ot
the transaction.
I would have been that greenhorn, but I had luckily
the ad vice of one well skilled in trading and prices, and
it was as good as a play to hear the desultory conversa
tion that went on between my friend and Sirroomull,
each side feigning perfect indifference as to the result.
It ran something in this way:
"How much that green Bokhara silk?"
" That, n1em-sahib, very good silk, most rich, it three
rupees a yard," he unrolled a length of glorious coloured
material.
" Three rupees? I never heard of such a thing I
'7\Thy I get as good as that in Rangoon for two; besides
it is not a good colour, and there is a mark on it."
"Men-sahib has said," the man laid it aside as if the
matter were ended, and rolled out with a flourish of
his hand a soft cloud of blue chiffon-like material.
" That pineapple silk, mem-sahib."
" Yes, I know ; it does to trim hats, but it's very
flimsy. How much?"
"That, mem-sahib, is one rupee the yard."
" A rupee ! I'll give you eight annas."
"Well, mem-sahib, just for luck, to begin buy, mem
sahib shall have for eight annas the yard, how many?"
He measured the piece. " There are seven yards and
a half."
" I don't want more than seven ; you can give me
in the extra bit if you like."
He looked unutterable reproach, but tossed the piece
aside as bought, and so it went on with long intervals
during which neither side said anything at all. We
departed to have breakfast, and returned to find the
man still there and immovable, and the waves of
colour still illuminating the shadows of the verandah.
There was glorious silver-blue Burmese silk, enough
_for a dress, for eighteen rupees; it lay against the dull
green Bokhara; there was a rich Canton tussore gleam
ing against a peculiarly royal flame colour; saffron was
intermingled with pale mauve; it seemed as if the man
knew how to make each colour yield its best by placing
it near its complement, though his hand apparently
threw so carelessly. He had not only Burmese silks,
but others from Japan, India, China, and much glorious
handworked stuff, such as a kimono covered with
butterflies every one different in design; and a pure
silk blouse-length with daintily worked storks in flight
across the front.
The peculiarity of the Burmese silks is, say those who
have tested them, that they never "cut," and that the
eolours stay fast through any amount of washing; this
no doubt is because they are handmade, and the dyes
are pure vegetable. English-bought silks in Burma are
hopeless, they go directly to tatters and rags.
In the end I spent a great deal more than I had
intended to do, but as, on an average, we got each
article at about two-thirds the price the man asked, and
generally had the best part of a yard thrown in, I do
not think we did badly. But I did not get all my
silks from Sirroomull; for some I went to the bazaar.
The bazaar is a wonderful sight ; it is dirty, noisy,
crowded, but it was one of the places where I learned
the most, and seemed to get right down among the
people as I did nowhere else.
The front, which is in the principal street, looks like
a row of untidy stalls or open shops ; there are sacks, and
bottles, and barrels, and every sort of litter blocking the
spaces between these, which give access to the bazaar.
Inside, the building is a mighty raftered shed, very dark,
but airy. The ground is dirty and uneven, so that we had
to take some eare where we stepped, and our movements
were hampered by a rapidly growing crowd of coolies.,
each with a huge basket, competing for the job of
carrying any goods we might buy. In the interests of
peace and quiet, as well as to prevent our heels being
too closely followed, we selected one young stripling,
slim and well-formed, wearing all his worldly wealth in
the form of a belt of silver discs.
The bazaar is divided into alleys lined by a kind of
22
OUR COOLIE OUTSIDE THE H.\L\.�R

MOULMEIN
HUI<MESE GIRL JN B.\Z.\AR, MOULMEIN
continuous raised divan, on which the traders sit cross
legged with their wares on shelves behind them. This
was so, at least, in the first section, where cloths, and
silks, and prints, and other materials were sold. A
great many of the 1nen keeping these stalls were natives
of India, and among them the most popular costume
appeared to be an English white shirt worn outside a
lyungi or a pair of trousers. Though we experienced a
good deal of jostling and crowding in the bazaar, none
of it was rude or intentional; it was either because the
people were so anxious to get a look at us, or because
they were pressed on by others from behind, and they
were all most good-humoured and smiling. We were
the only Europeans present, and I should judge that
the place was seldom visited by Europeans. It differs
altogether from the large, clean, well-lighted building
at Mandalay, where any European can walk with per
fect ease.
At Moulmein I was fortunate enough to have with
me a lady who was as much at home in Hindustanee as
in English, who knew every turn and stall in the bazaar,
and who was the personification of good-temper. She
helped me to choose the silk I wanted for a lyungi and
told me the value of the material, which was a thick
rough quality, generally sold in lengths of three yards
for this purpose. The two lengths I eventually bought
were both shot with gold in a wonderful way, though
the ground of one was nasturtium colour and the other
a deep lilac; for these I paid six rupees each. While
the bargaining over the transaction went on the owner
of the stall sat in apparent indifference, merely indicating
K
by the faintest perceptible nod whether he agreed to any
price when his assistant turned to him for directions.
Then we passed on into the grain department, where
the stalls were nearly all kept by Burmans, many of
them girls, and at our appearance the excitement was
great. It rose to fever-pitch, and there was a regular
buzz, when I borrowed a high stool, for I had no tripod,
and, propping up the camera, made ready to take a photo
of a little Burmese girl sitting on piled-up sacks in
charge of great bowls of grain. She was smoking an
enormous cheroot, but put it down and looked on most
composedly at my preparations, evidently enjoying her
i1nportance immensely. I signed to her to take the
cheroot up again, and requested her to keep still as I
had to give the photo a long exposure. ,vhen I had
finished I turned to behold one of the most amazing
sights: not only were the alley-ways thronged with an
eager crowd, but on all points of vantage, steps, shelves,
stalls, even rafters, up to the very roof, was a semicircle
of dark half-clad figures, punctuated by white teeth and
gleaming eyes. If I could only have taken the scene as
I saw it then I But even as I looked they melted away
magically.
We passed on, seeing displayed for sale all sorts of
queer things: bowls full of tiny seeds called tele, to be
ground into oil ; the bark of the tree from which thanaka,
the favourite face-paste, is made, ground up and mixed
with water. It is said to be very cooling in cases of
prickly heat, but that is not why the girls wear it ; it is
because they wish to appear fair. A grinning old
poongyi, with hollows like pits appeP.;ring on his skinny
shoulders, begged from us; I must say this was an
isolated instance; poongyis are not supposed to have any
money, and I was never asked for alms even when I
penetrated into their monasteries.
From the drug store, smelling with the condensed
odour of seventy chemists' shops, we went on into an
unroofed alley, one of several which intersect the bazaar.
Here in the checkered light and shade men were busily
engaged in pounding up drugs in mortars. I took a
photo of them, and was then approached by a queer
little individual, who explained that he was a doctor and
would much like to be photographed too. Of course
all this was done through the interpreter; none of the
people spoke English.
We came out, right through the bazaar, to the other
side abutting on the river. Wide openings showed the
brilliant sunlight on the water, so strong that it made
one blink after the dimness passed through ; there were
numbers of sampans and dinghies waiting at the slime
covered steps to unload piles of shiny dark green water
melons. They would have made fine pictures, but,
alas! as so often happened, it was all "against the
sun. "
The inside of the corridor or gallery seemed given up
to refreshment stalls. One very fat woman had before
her tin pans in which were diamond-shaped wedges of
rice pudding at one pice apiece-a pice equals a farthing.
We watched her for a little time and saw her serve
several customers. There was a bowl of tea, another of
hot water, and a third of milk, and she ladled some from
each impartially into a smaller bowl and with it gave to
her customer half a great cart-wheel of flat biscuit for
two pice. At another stall the comestibles were more
savoury; there were all sorts of little dishes filled with
highly seasoned, dark coloured meats, fish, and hard
boiled eggs cut in half; nearly everything was soaked
in curry powder and condiments. Horrible decaying
fish formed a prominent article of diet. Many of the
people who came to buy food were natives of India, and
it was noticeable that the things were not handed to
them in the stall-keeper's fingers, but each was allowed
to take his own; we have not arrived at so much
nicety even in our London tea-shops !
Then we passed into the fruit and vegetable market,
where on every side lay the unknown. Great masses of
finger-like stuff resembling coral, huge bunches of
Gargantuan horse-radish, branching stalks with clusters
of green and yellow fruit like little pears from which
is made betel for chewing. Masses of water melons
were cut open and showed such a delightful rose-pink
that I was tempted to buy one, but found the only taste
a faint flavour of holly or ivy. A little Burmese girl
was sitting amid piles of sacks and baskets filled with a
small fruit like a little red pear; these were called rose
apples, and she put half a dozen into my hands for a
pice, but they had less taste than a turnip. There were
calabashes and pumpkins in plenty, and quantities of
round things about the size of potatoes, but of a lovely
plum colour; these are a vegetable named bringals,
which frequently appears at table, and rather resembles
a parsnip in taste. There were also ladies' fingers, like
large well-developed specimens of the lords and ladies
of our childhood ; as a vegetable these are very
good.
The fish market produced nothing of much interest,
except prawns the size of lobsters ; the butcher's stall
kept by Chinese, for the Burmans would not follow
such a trade-was in a corner, and then in one of the
outer courts we came upon other Chinamen eating their
food with chopsticks. I got a snapshot at them amid
consuming laughter ; they evidently considered it a
tremendous joke. Some one told me that a Chinaman
thinks he loses a soul every time he is photographed,
but as he has seven he does not worry much about one
more or less.
When I had thoroughly studied the teeming life of
the bazaar I wanted to go into a choung or monastery
and see what the life of the monks was like. This I
did not find difficult, for the Burmans are by no means
averse from strangers entering their holy precincts,
though sometimes they objected to me, as a woman,
going into the innermost shrine. Mah Kin Le invited
us to meet her and go to a choung to see the lying-in
state of a sadaw or bishop, a very holy man, who had
just died. According to custom his body, preserved in
honey, would be kept for a year or more, and then
burnt with great ceremony, but at the time he was
merely lying-in-state in a gilt coffin. It was standing
under a canopy which looked like a four-post bed and
was surrounded by offerings from the faithful. In
Burma the merit of the gift varies according to the
sanctity of the receiver, so you gain much more by
making a present to a holy man than to a beggar.
78 A· BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
All around were many gaudy parasols with little bits
of tinsel hanging from them ; the canopy was covered
with silk of different colours, and as the pillars of the
room were made of mirror-mosaic, the general effect
was as unlike a European idea of a chamber of mourning
as it well could be. A table covered with lamps stood
at the foot of the canopy, for lamps rival clocks as
appropriate offerings to the poongyis. On the verandah
outside Chinese lanterns swung in the wind. The
poongyis, of whom there were several in attendance,
made no objection to my taking a photograph of the
scene, and two of them even stood obligingly in the
foreground. I was told on good authority that the
poongyis of Burma have a high reputation, and keep
their vows, but I was not personally prepossessed by
their appearance; it seems impossible that their easy
idle life can be conducive to the growth of morality.
They have strict rules, such as not eating after midday
and not receiving money ; among other things they are
not supposed to look at a woman, and the large palm
leaf fans they are frequently seen carrying are not, as
might be supposed, to shield their shaven heads from
the sun, but to hold up when a woman passes so as to
shield them from the too dazzling effects of her beauty.
"The Book of the Law says that, even if a poongyi's
mother should fall in the ditch he must not give her his
hand to pull her out. He may hold out a stick or let
her seize the hem of his robe-and even then he must
figure to himself that he is pulling at a log of wood."*
The poongyis do no work, but sally forth each morn-
* "Burma, a Handbook," by Sir J. G. Scott, K.C.I.E.
ing with their begging bowls, as a matter of form, to
receive the offerings of the faithful; very often they are
accompanied by a little neophyte whom I have seen
staggering under the weight of two heavy bowls filled
with food slung at each end of a bamboo, while the
poongyi himself stalked serenely ahead.
A great many of the Burmese boys are still educated
in the choungs, learning to read and write Burmese and
to understand the simplest elements of arithmetic, and
a knowledge of the Buddhist law; this is about all they
do learn, and it is taught in a curious mechanical way, by
the little pupils lying full length on their stomachs and
repeating in a loud sing-song the Burmese characters
written for them on steatite slates with sharp styles.
But in places like Moulmein, where there are very larg.e
English schools, by far the greater number of boys prefer
to be educated in them, for here they can learn enough
to be clerks in government service. One day I wandered
by myself into the mission schools of the S.P.G., the
third largest in the town, containing 300 boys or more,
whose fathers are in a good position and pay for their
admission, but there are only a very few girls, as in spite
of the very favourable position of women in Burma, and
their business capacities, education is still considered
unnecessary for them.
I saw both the boys and the girls playing in their
respective parts of the grounds; the former to our
thinking look very like girls with their funny little top
knots of hair. Numbers of the boys now, however,
adopt the European fashion, and crop their hair even
thou. h they retain the lyungi. It seems almost as if
Eastern men felt that trousers are not seemly, for I
several times saw better class natives wearing trousers
with a piece of material swathed round them, and one
man had on a pair of tweed trousers and a heavy piece
of tweed cloth folded over them, under a burning sun
with the thermometer somewhere about 100° F.! It
is the Burmese fashion that every boy should be tattooed
from the waist to below the knee as soon as ever he is able
to bear it. Up-country every Burman is so adorned, but
like many old customs this is dying out in the large towns
of the south. It is such an agonising ordeal that it can
only be done a little bit at a time and the boy is given
opium to drug him while it goes on; sometimes he
nearly dies from it. The effect, when completed, is
exactly that of a pair of skin-tight blue breeches, and
as seen among the coolies, who tuck up their lyungis
into a loin-cloth while they work, it is quite effective.
There are numbers of half-castes in the S.P.G. school
besides pure Burmans. The Burmese look down on
natives of India, yet the girls do occasionally intermarry
with them, and are glad to get a Chinese husband, for
the Chinese are frugal and much more hardworking
than the Burmans. The offspring of these marriages is
divided between the races of the parents, the girls wear
ing Burmese clothing and the boys Chinese. In the
school, though English is taught, the lessons are
in Burmese in the lower standards, but in the highest
standards all the lessons, except the actual Burmese
one, are given in English. There were some big fellows
in these divisions, and on the blackboard I saw fairly
advanced algebraical and mathematical problems.
SADAW LY!Nt.J IN STATE, MOULMUN
HUl!Ml•:S1•: Glln.s .\T TIIE S.1'.G sc·11001.
MOUI.Ml·:IN
A DER NGS IN MOULMEIN 81
Among the scholars I noticed some with a most extra
ordinary head-dress, the hair being shaved in a great
bare patch running back from the forehead over the
crown like a gulf. These children I was told were
Corringhees.
At Moulmein there are generally a few showers and
a certain cloudiness just about Christmas, but this did
not happen when I was thete, and every one kept
repeating what a very hot " cold weather " they were
having. From 180 to 200 inches of rain fall every year
in six months, and then for six months there is practically
none. The rain comes so refreshingly after the hot
weather that it is welcomed by the inhabitants, even
though it is in too great quantity. Every ditch is filled
and flows merrily, the grass springs up so that its growth
can almost be seen, and the trees burst out in flower. One
beautiful tree, the amherstia, takes its name from a
town some miles south. It was not in flower while I
was at Moulmein, but I saw it afterwards with its
blossoms drooping in fiery clusters. The differences in
rainfall in Burma are startling and inexplicable. Rangoon
gets about 80 to 90 inches a year, while northwards is a
dry zone stretching for about 150 miles; this includes
Mandalay, where the average rainfall is no more than 15
inches. At one place on the southern borc�er of the dry
zone called Pyinmana, one side of the river gets 60 to 80
inches and the other only 10 to 15, and for this no
reason is apparent.
Whoever knows anything about Burma has heard
of the Bombay Burma Trading Corporation, which
was established in the country before the English
L
annexed it. As I was staying in the house of a
manager of the corporation, I naturally heard a good
deal about the teak and forest industry, which is of ex
ceptional interest. He told me that there were twenty
jungle elephants belonging to the corporation to be
seen near Moulmein. They were collected together before
being taken up country to camp, and it was a most
unusual chance to be able to see so many all at once.
I agreed readily with the suggestion that we should go
to see them, and on Sunday morning early we started.
The day was heavenly, with a vivid amber light that
made every twig stand out as if bathed in radiance,
and the air had a crystalline clearness.
We drove between lines of native huts, where num
bers of the people were squatting in front combing and
cleaning each other's lank black hair. There were men
bringing water in kerosene tins ; girls with baskets of
plantains on their heads ; two men were staggering along
with a heavy jar of frothy toddy slung on a pole be
tween them ; others were hawking about crates of cheap
English enamel goods. Bullocks were feeding on the
seeds of the toddy palm, which looked like small turnips.
In front of some of the houses was a large carefully
sketched pattern of white chalk reaching out into the
roadway. This was designed to "keep the devils off."
When we came to the end of the village we left the
carriage behind, for it could go no further owing to the
roughness of the roads, and we started on foot through
the paddy-fields. The threshing of the paddy was
being carried out in a simple fashion that recalled
Biblical stories : seven bullocks marched abreast, round
and round, treading the husk with their broad hoofs.
Afar off we saw the elephants, huge creatures, feeding
in the fields, though, truth to tell, the stubble was
scanty, and there seemed little enough for them to
satisfy their capacious appetites upon. Elephants are
getting scarcer in Burma yearly, and their value rises
accordingly ; numbers are caught in the government
keddars in the north, but out of these such a large per
centage dies that the net result is small. Breeding is
slow work, inasmuch as at the best it means one cub in
three years, and after its birth the mother is incapacitated
for work for eighteen months. A young one does not
begin work at all until he is six, and is not of full use
until he reaches thirty years ; so the game is not much
more profitable than that of planting trees, and is carried
on mainly for the benefit of those tnat come after.
Female elephants now fetch somewhere about three
hundred pounds, and males double as much. The
trained elephants are of course even more valuable, and
their lives are on the average shorter than the jungle
elephants'.
Elephant-stealing is one of the greatest difficulties the
corporation has to contend against ; every animal is not
only branded but measured on a method corresponding
to the Bertillon system-girth, tusks, marks and all
and yet he frequently disappears, and is not again recog
nised. The elephants I saw were all hobbled, and one,
a rogue by nature, was further tethered, and did his
best to express his resentment emphatically when any
one came near him. I got a good photograph of one
firie female, but she, poor thing, was dead· within the
week, having been stung in the foot by a snake. In
spite of his apparently tough hide an elephant is really
so sensitive that even mosquitoes annoy him. The
mahouts or oozies were a rough-looking set of men, with
rather a Mongolian cast of face, light-coloured, and
1nedium-sized; they belong to the race of Talaings, also
called by ethnologists Mons, who were the original
owners of the land before the Burmans drove them
further and further south ; they are now only found in
small numbers.
The district manager, who was with us this morning,
was going to start off next day in charge of the
elephants and this savage crew, and convoy them up to
camp, a month's journey away. He did not know the
way, and the only guidance he had was from rough
maps made by the corporation officers themselves.
Sixty miles of the way lay in Burma, and then he
crossed over into Siam, where there were no roads at
all. He seemed to look upon the ,vhole thing as a most
ordinary performance, but I can't say I did. He was,
of course, taking his whole outfit-bedding, tent, food,
and other necessaries-and he explained to me what a
severe blow the Chicago revelations had been to him and
his fellows, who are so largely dependent on the provisions
they carry with them. Of course they shoot what game
they can, and they occasionally get fish, but the supply
of these things is limited, and sometimes rations are very
short indeed. He told me laughingly he had tried
monkey, which was disgusting, and lived for a week on
owls 1
There was nothing I enjoyed more than hearing the
2/i
A FEMALE ELEPHANT OF THI,; B. B. T.

COHl'OR.'\TION
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G<>A US
yarns of the B. B. T. C. men, telling of the wild life in the
jungle. But it is not easy to get them to talk, for they
are mostly of the type that do things and do not chatter.
Yet I heard enough, by dint of adroit questions, to
1nake me understand why they are generally so resource
ful and self-reliant. This great corporation, which has
done so much to open up the country and to give the
natives a good impression of the white sahibs' honour,
began by getting concessions from Theebaw. It is
tightly hemmed in by government restrictions nowa
days, overlooked by forest officers, forced to plant trees
where it cuts them down, and only to cut those that are
allowed, which is all no doubt very good in its way, as
Burmese forests are not inexhaustible. The chief work
is, of course, with the teak, that splendid wood to be
found everywhere in Burma, hard and durable, with a
grain like oak. It is this which makes the simple and
rough dak bungalows and circuit houses look comfort
able enough, whereas, were the uncovered walls and
floor of deal the effect would be much barer. The
trees_ are girdled and felled, dragged by elephants to
the creeks, and sent down by water. Every one is
numbered and measured. Most of the work has to be
done in the wet weather when the creeks are flooded,
and the men are soaked from morning till night ; as one
of them expressively explained to me: "It is not only
you never have a dry stitch on you, but you break
through jungle where on every leaf the leeches are
gaping for your blood ! " This is a touching picture,
but one's sympathies rather incline to the leeches, of
which only one in a million can fulfil his highest destiny !
When the country near the Salween, which ran
through the wild Shan States never conquered by the
Burmese, was first opened up by the corporation, there
was excitement enough and to spare; even now it
makes an adventurous heart pant to hear of the
wonders lying hid in this immense tract. Tigers,
panthers, pythons and black bears live there and
flourish; and there are enormous caves into which a
huge river runs and disappears. My host had taken a
particular interest in this curious formation, and again
and again tried to penetrate into the cave, which was
full of enormous stalactites, but the torches got damp,
the air foul, there were great rocks to scramble over
with crevasses between, and when a stone was dropped
it chinked against the sides, but was never heard to
reach the bottom, so the exploring party abandoned
their efforts. There are sulphur springs boiling hot,
and a mud volcano, which rises up in a cone like a
gigantic umbrella only at full moon, and then drops
down again. Many a fool buffalo has mistaken it for a
mud wallow, and never been seen again. On the same
great plateau there are heard strange rumblings and
noises below the surface as if immense blocks of stone
dropped down for ever ; the natives aver the place is
haunted, and will not go there, and when two English
men tried to sleep here they lay awake all night and in
the morning with one consent fled, filled with an
uncanny feeling they were loth to explain even to
each other.
The thing which most surprised me in this account of
jungle life was the fact that the forest managers seldom
:ride on the �lephants: they use them for transport only,
and themselves stalk ahead gun on shoulder ready to
shoot at anything that presents itself. The march is
very slow, about twelve or fourteen miles a day, and
through thick jungle much less. I could quite realise
from their word-painting how delightful it was to have
outstripped your elephants on the day's march and
reached a place for camp, weary and worn and soaking.
with maybe your last cheroot in your pocket, and the
knowledge that you may have to remain without bed or
fire or food all night; the agonising indecision as to
whether you shall drag yourself back to meet the
transport,· or if by so doing you will run more chance of
missing them, and the joy that fills your soul when the
faint, far-off tinkle of the elephant bells warns you they
are approaching. On the march one great source of
trouble is the difficulty of inducing the elephants to
cross rivers, at times they will go all right, at other
times solidly refuse, and as much as a fortnight or three
weeks may be wasted on the banks. There are several
recognised methods of dealing with this phase of
obstinacy, the animals may be driven forward with
torches at night, or towed across by the corporation
launch, or, if the river is rising, they may be induced to
walk on to a large flat raft, where they can be fastened
until the water comes up and floats them off, but
all these methods involve loss of time and infinite
patience.
The forest work continues right round the
year except for a few months in summer. The
:Burmans are wonderful men with an axe, using a
small narrow one like a chisel ; but they are so
absolutely accurate in their blows that they fell a tree
very quickly, leaving the stump as smooth as a table,
However, on the other hand, they are not much use at
creek work, and have no sense in a jamb. A few of the
best elephants trained for forest work are perfectly
marvellous in their human sagacity. They will work
by themselves for a long time without supervision in
the river bed, feeling a jammed posse of logs with their
trunks, touching this one and that one, and at length
etting hold of one which they know by instinct is the
K ystone of the mass ; they pull it out and fly for their
lives to the banks, and down comes the whole avalanche
of mighty tree trunks. Sometimes when the logs have
collected in thousands, the dense black clouds north
ward bespeak rain, and a freshet is expected ; this fre
quently happens at night, but tired or not the men must
be up and about, torches are lit, and all night long the
weary work goes on. The chief nuisance at these times
is the plague of bugs and beetles of all sorts that swarm
around the lights ; every winged thing from mosquitoes
upward hangs in thick black curtains around heads and
torches, and they must be beaten off with the hands.
Indeed, it is the small fry that render life in the jungle
at times almost unendurable ; besides the flying insects
there are the ticks, little pinheads that attach them
selves to the skin in hundreds and dig inwards, for this
reason each man carries with him a square bit of
Willesden canvas to sit down upon. Another great
annoyance is the large hairy caterpillar, infinitely more
poisonous and irritating than the creature we know.
23
NATIVE HOUSE
WOOD·C\HVING ON A CIIOUXG
His favourite game is to crawl along a man's collar,
the man rubs back, bestrewing himself unconsciously
with a myriad irritable hairs ; the same thing happens
on the other side, at last he grabs upwards, getting the
palm of his hand likewise covered with hairs, and finds
that, for the hundredth time, he has fallen a victim to
the hairy caterpillar. In about-a quarter of an hour he
begins to feel the effects of the encounter, and for days
afterwards his neck is raw and painful.
In the jungle the B.B.T.C. men wear wide silk
trousers and loose coats Chinese fashion, so that their
clothes do not protect them much from these pests.
Bees are always very troublesome, and seem to have a
particular antipathy to elephants, for when they hear
the elephant bells they will sometimes descend from
the trees in a swarm, then the poor beasts, maddened
by the stings planted in the hundreds of tender joints
in their hides, fly trumpeting in every direction, and it
is sometimes days before they can be . got together
again. One trip my host had a lively time from this
cause. He was a little way from his elephants and
heard them trumpet and stampede, and he dashed up a
dry creek in time to run right into an angry swarm of
bees. There was but little water in the creek, yet he
made for a two-foot pool and lay in it even to the tip
of his nose. When, after holding his breath until he
was almost suffocated, he ventured to raise his head,
he found the whole surface of the pool covered with
floating drowning bees. He was penetrated all over
with stings from head to foot, his whole body swelled
up, and in the forearm alone he counted seventeen.
M
The same trip he was going along a narrow ledge
between a cliff and a precipice, with the elephants in
front, when he was attacked by wasps, and finally he
ran his head into a red ant's nest. Red ants get their
nippers buried deep, and must be detached one by one.
,vho would be a B.B. ?
CHA.PTER V
BUDDHAS AND BATS
IN England, where one day might be June and the next

November, it is impossible to arrange plans for outdoor
expeditions with any certainty of being able to carry
them out. Things are better managed in Burma ; any
day may be fixed upon with the perfect assurance of
fine weather. We took full advantage of this while I
was at Moulmein, and of the numerous excursions
planned we did not fail to enjoy every one. The most
interesting of all of these was the visit to the famous
Farm Caves, which lie about eight miles from Moul
mein, across the river Ataran. The caves are so-called
because at one time they were farmed out by the
government for the sake of the rich guano with which
the floor is inches deep from the presence of myriads
of bats; this somewhat curious lease is now discon
tinued.
We were a party of four that day, and we drove the
first four miles in the carriage down to the ferry over
the river, followed by the servants and provisions in a
gharry. At the ferry we struck upon a large party of
about twenty people, Chinese husbands and Burmese
wives, with their mothers and children, going also on v.
pleasant outing. It is impossible to describe the
swagger of the young husbands, who looked mere lads
of about eighteen or twenty ; they were as thin as
laths, a thinness accentuated by the long lean pigtails
tied up with scarlet which hung down their backs.
They wore the flopping loose Chinese raiment of a
beautiful sky-blue, huge very new leather belts full of
jewellery, gold watch chains and baubles, English sailor
straw hats, and English yellow leather lace-up shoes.
One little boy about four years old was a complete
miniature of his father: his long pigtail was elaborately
intertwined with pink, and he wore brown English
shoes ; he was evidently a great pet and was privileged
to walk ahead with the men, who sometimes carried
hi1n for a short distance, while the whole crowd of
mothers and wives, looking extremely happy, carrying
innumerable babies and chattering like monkeys, fol
lowed their lords. On the other side of the river amid
the brilliant green of the flat plantain leaves and the
tall spiky toddy palms were numbers of native huts, a
regular village; when we landed we found that the
bullock carts which had been ordered for us were in
festal array, having red awnings tied to four slight up
rights at the corners and gaily fluttering in the breeze.
The floor of the carts was thickly covered with straw
and the result was not at all uncomfortable. We went
two in each cart, and so had room to move about and
change our position, but the whole of the other party,
with the exception of one man, packed into two some
what similar carts, and seemed to enjoy the process
immensely. The exception rode a brand-new bicycle,
BUDDHAS AND BATS 9S
and tucked one end of his pigtail into his coat pocket
to prevent its interfering with him. When a China
man is working or travelling he generally coils his pig
tail round and round the crown of his head, but it is
not considered polite to leave it so in company ; it
would be as discourteous for a Chinaman to come up
your stairs with a coiled-up pigtail as for a Burman to
do so in shoes.
The road was made of laterite, as so many of the
Burmese roads are, and the red dust rose a good deal
too freely for comfort. The way was lined at first by
bamboos and then by hedges of shiny-leaved plants like
our burberous or laurel, afterwards we came to a long
raised causeway running across the flat baked mud of
the paddy-fields and lined by tall toddy palms. The
yellow of the reaped fields and the intense blue of the
hills made my eyes ache. At the corners of the fields
little white flags, fluttering over huts, denoted the
occupation of the broker for the purposes of selling the
crop. A man was collecting toddy from the wayside
palms, mounting the trees by a bamboo ladder. He
makes a gash at the tough stems of the great leaves
and fixes thereon a little black iron pot ; the sap slowly
drops into it, and he comes again some time later to
collect it. As there were several pots on one tree they
looked rather like some gigantic fruit. The toddy when
first collected is sweet and insipid and uninteresting,
but is not intoxicating. Once I had a desire to try it,
and signed to a man who was coming down from a
tree to give me some, he offered me an iron pot willingly
enough, but when I saw the loathsome mixture of dead
and dying flies floating in a scum on the surface I
declined his generosity.
In front of us, gradually growing nearer, was the
razor edge of the great rock I had seen from the ridge
afar off. The precipitous face is scarred and seamed,
showing through between skinny skeleton trunks, the
very ghosts of trees. It was sheer 400 feet high and
there was no place for a path on either side ; it would
be necessarily a hand and knee climb from base to
summit, an impregnable fort of nature's construction.
On the edge of the dizzy height was perched a tiny
pagoda, near which we could just make out the little
figure of the poongyi or hermit in charge, all alone in
that tremendous glare ; overhead, like a speck in the
brazen sky, hovered a vulture. A more impressive
sight I have rarely seen. The poongyi had no shelter
from the noonday heat but the shadow of his pagoda ;
he was lifted far above the world and apparently inacces
sible. Yet I am told that at certain festival seasons
the rock is alive with good pilgrims climbing up like
monkeys.
The single telegraph wire which had so far accom
panied us suddenly ran off across the fields "to Siam,"
and we, turning a right angle, soon pulled up at the
zeyats. Luckily there were two or three of these so we
had not to amalgamate parties ! The orientals took
one and we another, which faced each other across the
road. 'I'he behaviour of the whole party was excellent
from beginning to end : there was none of the horse
play and skylarking English "'Arries" would have
indulged in, though continual merriment was kept
BUDDHAS AND BATS 95
up. We were amused to see all the superficial finery
disappear, and then the women cooked the men's food
while the men lounged about. Afterwards they waited
in the background and took what their lords and
masters had left. It often occurred to me in Burma
how very difficult it must be for native servants to
learn to attend first to their mem-sahibs before the
sahibs, a custom differing so entirely from all their own.
I am afraid they must think the sahibs great fools to
allow such a perversion of the natural order of things !
As it is a merit to build a rest-house, but no merit to
keep one in repair, they often fall to pieces.. However,
the one we had was perfectly clean, certainly far cleaner
than it would have been in any European country. It
was not unlike those I had seen at the burial-ground,
a long, low, shed-like building, raised about four feet
from the ground ; the floor was made of boards so
loosely laid together that one could easily see between.
Two large gaunt pariah dogs wandered about below to
pick up any scraps that might come through to them.
The roof was tiled and supported by wooden posts.
The ends of the shed were filled in, but the sides, the
length of the building, were open, but for a light
balustrade of wood, doubtless designed to keep out
those same dogs at night. Part of the floor was about
a foot lower than the rest making 2. kind of dais or
edge, on which we sat while we enjoyed the breakfast
the servants had cleverly prepared in an adjoining shed,
There was no furniture whatever except a great earthen
ware chatty of water in which we washed our hands.
Of course if one had one's own bedding the resthouse
would be quite sufficient to sleep in, for in this climate
at the dry season very little shelter is requisite, but all
necessaries would have to be brought by the traveller.
The mighty cliff rising right opposite to us showed
several yawning gaps which were the entrances to the
vast caves with which it is honeycombed. In one was
a little wooden bedstead and some iron pots belonging
to a hermit who lived there. It see1ned odd to see this
evidence of domesticity in the entrance of the cave, and
near it was a kind of baby pagoda perched on a shelf of
rock. I can imagine the utter stillness and loneliness
of the place as the poongyi prepared to settle in for the
night with only the great stars blinking down on him
from overhead and the occasional howl of a hungry
pariah dog for company. The larger entrance led by a
flight of steps to a kind of high gallery, which ran into
the rock for about a hundred yards and had various
eaves branching from it. The main alley was lined
with colossal Buddhas seated for the most part side
by side. They looked ghostly in the dim light, and
there was something monstrous and inhuman in the
repetition of them, so still and silent, one after another.
As our eyes grew accustomed to the dimness we could
see that they had all different expressions : one seemed
to be suffering from the colic, another was sly, a third
smirking, and one seemed to say : " You may look at
me, but you won't get much change out of me!" This
diversity of expression in these hand-made images was
a source of continual amusement to me. Alas! when
the brass machine-made masks become common, all alike
will be of a stereotyped dreariness I Seated in front of
30
THE FARM CAVES, NEAR MOULMEIN

3L
S. /-/. Rey•10/ds
BIG BELL IN THE SHIVE OAG(>N

PAGOLJA
BUDDHAS AND BATS 97
one image were two small carved figures of " dis
ciples." Anything more ridiculously cheeky than their
expressions I never saw, but I suppose the artist had
laboured to get quite a contrary effect.
After all the most impressive thing about that cave
was the smell of bat; it was my first introduction to it,
so I suppose I, like Mrs. Gummidge, felt it more than
the others. It was pungent, penetrating, unforgettable;
in fact except for some " stink poochies," whose acquaint
ance I made later in Ceylon, I do not think I have ever
met any smell which made such a deep impression on
me! How the poongyi could sleep in it-but then we
do not all feel alike; perhaps he looked upon it as a kind
of company!
While I was adjusting my camera on a carefully
built-up pile of wood and stone to get an exposure the
whole crowd of little people in the other party streamed
up the rough-hewn steps to the entrance. It was like a
scene in a pantomime; the brilliant pinks and yellows
were set off to advantage by the Chinese blue; how
often have I blessed the Chinaman for giving just that
colour-note the crowd needed, and which one found in
nothing else. They were full of chatter and merriment,
and the younger boys were screaming to imitate
monkeys. They passed by into the inner recesses, and
I waited till they returned, and tried to get a
photo of them with a background of Buddhas; the
contrast between colossal solemnity and doll-like dainti
ness w:ould have been striking. Unfortunately, the
older women when they saw my intention held their
noses and ran; I do not know if they attributed to my
N
camera what by strict rights appertained to the bats,
but it seemed so. One Chinaman swaggered up to us
and said grandly : " Too much afraid ; they not under
stand I " ; but he did not offer to pose himself, in spite
of his superior wisdom.
On leaving this cave we walked for about a quarter
of a mile in the deep shade of the perpendicular cliff
that almost made one giddy to look up at it, and then
finally mounted to the second entrance by a narrow
path, winding upward through jungle flower growing
shoulder high. I had never been in a stalactite cave
before, and expected frosty pinnacles and hanging spikes
of a snowy whiteness ; in this I was disappointed ; when
our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that fell
through irregular shafts and air-holes we saw strange
pale colours, greens and yellows, but no snowy white
ness. Then one of our party arranged and lit a flare of
magnesium powder, and the effect was wonderful. Over
the high arched roof the bats flew screeching in count
less multitudes. In the centre was one huge cluster
like a swarm of bees, and from this continuous flights of
them radiated so fast across the roof that it made one's
eyes run to watch them. We set off the powder several
ti1nes, and at the last the party of little people from the
first cave came in time to see it, and were struck dumb
with admiration and awe. By this light we saw better
the various forms of the rocks, which were fantastic and
peculiar ; there were some like filmy shawls, others like
mammoth elephants, and others resembling cathedral
columns, but all appeared as if draped and softened by
some covering of gauze. Here and there columns of
BUDDHAS AND BA'l'S 99
stalagmite rose from the floor, and the roof was honey
combed with deep pits or cauldrons. We were not
satisfied with staying near the entrance, but, in spite of
an ever-deepening sense of the presence of our friends the
bats, scrambled on over rough rocks for a considerable
distance until we could penetrate no further. Insensibly
we had become so much accustomed to the cooler air in
the cavern that when we emerged once more, the
warmth outside, even in the shade, struck our faces like
the blast from a furnace.
On arriving again at the rest-house we found the
servants had prepared tea, and afterwards, in the cool of
the evening, we started homeward. The only incident
on the return journey had its comic side. As we neared
the ferry Mr. M. told me that a Burman, wh01n he
knew, or whose aunt or grandmother he knew, in the
way of business, had asked us to come into his house in
passing and he had pleaded lack of time, but promised
that we should speak to him on our return. He was
there, evidently expecting us, and as we alighted from
our lordly waggons he set out a small round table in the
middle of the dusty village street and put round it four
chairs for us to sit down upon. Then he brought out a
magnificent worked silver bowl of huge size, covered
with a plate. All around us, in awed delight, stood the
village population, mostly consisting of children ; I do
not think I ever saw so many children, or children quite
so naked, all in one place at one time before or since.
Two tumblers were placed on the table ; it was intended
that we should drink after the men, of course, and when,
with immense solemnity, the plate was removed? the
bowl was discovered to be full of plain water, none too
cold I I thought this might have been meant as an
insult, but I was assured that that was quite out of the
question where a Burman was concerned ; it was, prob
ably, all the man had to offer. If he had offered the
bowl as well there might have been something to say
for it l However, we braved typhoid, and sipped a
little of the water so as not to hurt our entertainer's
feelings.
The Farm Caves was only one among a number of
excurs10ns.
Another day we went by small launch down the river
to Chonzon (pronounced Chonzone ), a trip which can be
done equally well by taking the regular steamer of the
Flotilla Company. We started from Tiger jetty about
8 A.M., and in the golden morning light dropped down
the broad stream with the tide. There was a slight
blue haze in the air which seemed to envelop everything
as in a veil of shining gauze, and made the low-lying
green scrub on the far side of the river the colour of
aloes. On the hills around Moulmein the little pagodas
shone as points of dazzling whiteness, and the broad
band of silver on the large one sparkled like diamonds.
The paddy-boats with their red brown sails, the Chitta
gonian boats with high sterns like gondolas, and the
Burmese boats with their hoods, were each and all a
source of delight.
It seemed a blissful idea to travel down-stream for
many days in one of the last, with the thatch beehive
roof to shield one from the sun, but I am told that the
reality is anything but blissful. The thatch covering is
31
PLATFORM OF CHONZtlN PAGODA

33
wo�rnN AND BA BIES AT CJ )- 01'ZO:-.;

BUDDHAS AND BATS 101
too low to permit of any one's standing up, or even
sitting with much comfort. Lying down full length
gets fatiguing after a time, besides, it is impossible to
see anything in that position ; yet it is imperative to
remain under the shelter while the sun is high. The
squeak of the oars-in which the boatman delights as
much as the cartman does in his ungreased axles-gets
perfectly maddening after a while. At night the boat
men talk incessantly, and are offensive in their habits,
so the joys of coming down-stream in a native boat are
more than counterbalanced by the evils.
We landed at last amid a many-coloured crowd on a
wooden jetty, and passed beneath overhanging tassels of
bright scarlet hybiscus to where a motley collection of
carts awaited our choice. Then came a long dusty
drive through paddy-fields lined by small wild pumpkin
trees laden with fruit like green apples. Presently we
arrived at the bungalow and court-house, where our
host for the day welcomed us. After lunch I and a
friend wandered up to the high pagoda, about half a
mile away. A long flight of steps led up to it as usual,
and at the base were two fine specimens of the leogryphs
generally seen in this position; their eyes were of the
transparent red tinsel or glass that has a ferocious gleam
in the sunlight.
From the pagoda platform there was a wide and
beautiful view. We sat there a long time having a
glimpse of the glittering sea on the far horizon, and
noting the splendid butterflies, some the size of small
birds, that fluttered past. There was a large plaster
elephant on one side of the pagoda platform, an offering
from some wealthy Burman. The white elephant is a
sacred animal, and is often represented in carvings at
pagodas, but it was odd to see one alone like this and so
singularly placed.
Later on, when it was cooler, we went down to the
village on the shores of a wide shallow lake. Here the
camera created great excitement. Though the light was
going, and the trees threw heavy shadows, I tried to get
a group of the people to pose, and just as I was about
to take them, a woman rushed wildly up and squatted
down in front. The minute the photo was taken there
was a universal roar of laughter from the good-natured
villagers. I failed to see the joke, but it was evidently
a good one, for they laughed and laughed consumedly,
and passed it on from one to another as if it were too
good to waste. Just then my host came up and ex
plained that it was because the woman, who ran up at
the eleventh hour, had been bathing, and had only her
bathing lyungi on, and no little white engie or jacket;
but she had been so anxious not to be left out that she
had plumped down just as she was. Even after we left
the village the laughter still went on, ringing up the
aisles of the heavy-foliaged trees. Judging by the way
it was received jokes must be scarce in Chonzon; I
should not be surprised if this one turns up in the
Christmas number of the next "Chonzon Gazette," or
whatever the equivalent may be. As we turned away
an excited group hurried after us, and by signs made
known that they wished to extract the photo from the
camera; my attempts to explain that the feat was
impossible were in vain, until one more learned in the
ways of cameras than the others came along. He stood
in front of me majestically, and pointed with both hands
to the sun, and then to me, and then to the camera, and
what he said I know not, but the others understood and
dispersed.
This village was very pretty and very irregular; all
the little huts stood on legs, as they invariably do, a
fact which adds a piquant touch to an eye unaccustomed
to it. There were many fine trees overshadowing them,
amongst which I recognised that bearing the jack-fruit,
a large green pumpkin with prickles, which grows on a
stalk straight out of the trunk in a most surprising way.
It is uninteresting to eat, and only used by the poorest.
I tried to get views of this fascinating village frmn the
lake, where a number of boys were bathing joyously,
but the evening light failed me.
. The life of a Burmese villager is a very happy one,
paddy is cheap, and rice forms the staple of his diet; he
generally has a growth of papyas or plantains for his
household use. A papya is a large fruit like a melon,
only pear-shaped. Inside it is a rich yellow colour, and
the hollow centre is filled with seeds like peppercorns.
The usual way to eat the fruit is with a dash of lime and
some sugar; but a friend I saw in Ceylon-where they
are just as common, but are called papaws-told me the
true method was to have it in a finger-bowl with sherry
and cream, and having tried it I can truly say it is
excellent. Clothing need trouble the Burman villager
little ; he can get enough stuff for a lyungi for a rupee,
if he ever goes to the mad extravagance of buying one.
Judgi1:1g by those I saw, I should think they were
generally family heirlooms, having been washed and
worn until they had long lost all semblance of their
first colour. Children need no clothes at all; the few
bangles and beads distributed among them are doubtless
family capital. I always found these little mites very
attractive, they seemed so happy, and when they smiled
they looked all teeth and bright dark eyes. They were
sometimes, but not often, afraid of me, and when they
were it was generally in a coy way that added to their
charm, making them bury their faces in their mothers'
engies and peep out to see if I were watching them.
The men are as a rule kind and contented; the prevail
ing disposition is one of good fellowship, and there seem
to be hardly any beggars. In the rainy season, of course,
the thatch and mat huts must be penetrated through
and through by the damp, and the whole place is a
swamp, but it is not cold driving rain as it would be with
us, and where you have nothing to spoil there is no
reason to be anxious. To compare this life, without
care, and full of good fellowship and affection and plenty,
with that of an East-end dweller who works for a
pittance in a foul den, is to compare heaven with
hell.
Another day we went from Moulmein up the river
to a very pretty village at Kado. The launch took us -
this time also, and we passed within sight of Martaban
on the other shore. I wished I could have gone further
northward from here -to one of the most famous of the
Burmese pagodas, Chaik-To, which stands on a boulder
looking as if a finger touch would send it crashing
down, but this expedition would have taken many days,
:r )
K/\DO, A MODEL VII.J./\Clc

BUDDRAS AND BATS 105
1nd I, who had so much else to see, could not spare the
time.
We passed for some distance close along by the shore,
where the silvery leaves of the gangall, turning their
ottony backs to the wind, looked exactly like those of
willows. The untidy heads of the areca palm, the green
f the flat plantain leaves, and the· tall elephant grass
were all mingled in confusion. Everything was so
eautiful and we went so smoothly that it seemed all
care was left behind. It came as a slight chill to find
that the basket of food we had brought had to be
uspended from the roof of the launch to prevent the
intrusion of the white ants !
As we neared Kado sampans came out to land us, for
we could not get near to the landing-stage owing to
the shallowness of the water. The way in which a
ative uses his oars in a sampan is very graceful, and
like many another thing looks very easy until you try.
He stands upright and crosses the tops of the oars, work
ing them backwards entirely by a wrist movement. It
is curious that the boats, both large and small, should
o resemble the boats at Venice. In the evenings, when
een against the yellow glow, a large Chittagonian boat
eems as if cut out in black velvet, and the effect is
almost exactly that of a gondola, even to the action of
the gondolier ; and I believe that sa1npans are actually
identical with those used at Venice.
The village at Kado was quite a model one ; there
was a long raised causeway down the centre of each
treet, and the huts stood on legs on both sides. In the
wet weather the whole place is under water. Sticking
0
l 06 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
out of the thatch of the houses were strange-looking
implements ; they consisted of a rough hook on the end
of a tall bamboo and a primitive looking flat fan, also
on a bamboo handle. These things are put there by order
for the purpose of tearing down the thatch and beating
out the flames if a hut catches fire, and stowed away
in the rafters every villager must keep two chatties
full of water in view of the same catastrophe. Pariah
puppies swarmed, for, owing to his horror of taking life,
the Burman never kills the superfluous members of a
litter, and consequently a poor lean mangy mother,
with a family of seven or eight miserable little speci
mens of unwanted life clinging to her who has little
support to give them, is a frequent sight. In the
village there were many flowers, one a very pretty bell
shaped, sulphur-yellow flower like a convolvulus, with a
deep crimson centre. I saw this again in the jungle
near Maymyo. Another which grew in hedges was
not unlike leopard's-bane; it is also common in Moul
mein itself. There were pretty little acacia trees with
powdery scented white blossoms, but as a whole I was
disappointed with the flowers of the country.
Many very wealthy merchants live in this village,
which was quite the neatest and cleanest I saw during
my whole time in Burma, and they have erected some
famous modern shrines and pagodas which attract
numbers of pilgrims. We passed on to these through
the shady enclosure of a large poongyi choung. I could
not resist entering the choung itself and went up the
steps and into the darkness of the great hall, but I had
not advanced far when a small poongyi sprang out of
the gloom behind some columns, and waved me back.
Though he did not look very fearsome, I was yielding
to custom and retreating, when at a signal given by
Mr. M. he withdrew the heavy gold-worked curtain
suspended before the shrine so that we could see the
gilt Buddha behind. This was the only time that any
inmate of a choung objected to my going anywhere
I liked. The hall was full of offerings, lamps of every
shape and size in multitudes, and very many clocks,
some of them the large common white-faced, deal-cased
clocks to be seen hanging on any cottage wall in
England. Burmese offerings set strongly in these two
directions; it certainly does give the poongyi some
thing to do to wind up the clocks, for they generally
seem to keep them going, but why lamps ? I expect it
is the old story of "do as you would be done by," and
in the dim recesses of a cottage the Burman pictures
the glories of an oil lamp until it seems the most
beautiful thing in the world. Several offerings assumed
more original forms; one was an ordinary iron bed
stead.
We presently passed on from all this display of
treasures to the new shrines behind the choung; these
were dazzlingly ornate, all gilt and mirror-mosaic with
many roofs rising high into the shining sky. Running
like a frieze round the courts are bas-reliefs and pictures
representing the tortures of hell and delights of heaven
in the crudest material manner. People being sawn in
two and burning head downwards or nipped by innu
merable devils recalled the sensations with which, in
one's childhood, one looked at Dante's Inferno as illus-
trated by Dore. Hanging in front of the monstrous
Buddhas in the shrines were the little paper streamers,
to be bought everywhere for a few pice ; there were
also flowers in abundance, some of the blossoms of the
frangipanni being pickled in a bottle I But some of the
offerings were grotesquely inappropriate ; one was a
screen made of the photos of actresses to be found in
cheap boxes of cigarettes, another was a pack of playing
cards gummed together corner to corner, and a third a
representation of Mr. Chamberlain cut out in concertina
paper as sold on the London pavements. It is most
natural that what appears to the worshipper rare and
uncommon should be offered, but to Europeans the
effect is often almost paralysing. A tea-planter with
whom I stayed in Ceylon told me that his two native
servants were Roman Catholics, and they with others
built a chapel and asked him to come and see it ; he
went, but could with difficulty restrain his mirth at
seeing the whole of the altar draped with copies of the
'' Pink 'Un" 1
In one shrine we had representations of all the
three attitudes of the Buddha, and round the walls
of the "museum" was a most extraordinary frieze,
showing natives as black men and the Burmans as
white ; this frieze is considered a great joke by the
Burmans themselves, and attracts thousands on holidays.
Of course the Burmans are much fairer than the natives :
their skins are coffee or honey coloured, and they class
themselves with the white races. Colonel Yule says,
"By a curious self-delusion the Burmans would seem to
claim in theory at least they are a white people."
This was the last of that splendid series of expeditions
which added so much to my time in Moulmein, for on
January 2 I had to leave, to go back to Rangoon pre
paratory to starting off up-country alone. l\1uch as I
looked forward to this, it was a sad wrench leaving, but
early as was the hour of the steamer's departure,
numbers of my friends came down to " give me a send
off," and even as the boat moved slowly away I saw
one topee and another being added at the last 1ninute
to the flower-bed of Oriental turbans which adorned
the wharf.
CHAPTER VI
THE ROAD TO MANDALAY
THE artificial life passed amid streets, or enclosed by
four walls, has a softening effect on many, who become
like sea creatures without shells, flabby and unable to
help themselves in the rough and tumble of the wilder
ness ; when a breath of colder air blows upon these
people they are chilled and feel awesomely alone. But
there are a few not yet so sensitised by their surround
ings, that they cannot pant for the outer air, blowing
free and fresh, and the aloneness that comes with it,
which is freshening and vitalising. However, they
seldom "get out " ; the ways around our towns are
beaten flat by many feet for many leagues, and to go
beyond is costly and difficult.
When I finally left Moulmein and Rangoon I was
sorry enough to say good-bye to the"much" I had
had of enjoyment and the"many" who had been good
to me, but yet I felt keenly excited at the prospect of
getting away quite by myself up-country to penetrate
even ever so little "into the rough" on my own
account.
But I was not quite alone, for I had Chinnasawmy,
and he made a vast deal of difference. He had acted as
THE ROAD TO MANDALAY 111
second "butler" to Mrs. M. and was now leaving
her, so she suggested that as he was a good boy, I
should take him on. He was a Madrassee aged twenty
six, not very tall, with a round brown face and round
brown eyes, and a splendid set of white even teeth
which seldom showed, as his habitual expression was
one of great· solemnity. His wardrobe consisted of a
mysterious garment called a dhoti, which was wound in
and about his brown legs, a short coat of brown cloth
much worn, a turban and a pair of tiny gold earrings.
This was his travelling get-up/and when we were staying
in the house of friends he donned a white twill or jean
coat in place of the brown one, and if waiting at table,
and very smart indeed, a long white one with a very
broad stiff waistband. But dhobies were required if
these coats were much worn, and dhobies came
expensive, so the brown coat was frequentlyin evidence.
The boy paid his own washing, though I helped him a
,little at the end when I insisted on his wearing the
smarter uniform continuously. In addition to his own
outfit, I gave him, as I understood it was proper to do
if you were taking a boy into the colder country, ten
rupees to buy a long coat and a rug.
I had told him at first I would give him thirty rupees
a month, but he came and explained to me, very
nervously, for he was a timid boy, that he would prefer
it if I would give him " butter-money" daily, and
less at the end of the month. I agreed to this, and
arranged to pay him twenty-five rupees a month
instead, and four annas a day ; this came to a little more
but it was really cheap for a travelling boy, and I found
lll'l A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
him well worth it. He was a very good linguist,
speaking, reading and writing English, besides his own
two languages, Tamil and Hindustanee. Much later,
when we were crossing to Ceylon, where I took him
with me, I, being an ignoramus, asked him if he spoke
Tamil, thinking Hindustanee was his native language;
. he said yes, so I asked if he spoke it well or only a
little, and when he replied " It is mine own tongue,
Missie," I felt rather small ! He also spoke Burmese
quite fluently, but had forgotten how to read it; he
knew Telugu and a little French. The last accom
plishment I found out by accident, for when I was at
Maymyo, wishing to say something to a friend while he
was in the room, I talked to her for a few minutes in
French, and the same evening he remarked to me
with his customary gravity, "I understand French
too, Missie, well's English, but I nearly forgotten
. "
h1m.
This, as a delicate blend of warning for the future
and saving my feelings, could hardly be bett_ered !
I asked him how he had learned all these languages,
and he said, "English very easy, Missie; I learned for
three months with a munshi (teacher)." He had come
over to Burma at the age of fourteen, and was quite
alone in the world ; he told me this in answer to a
question, for he very very rarely volunteered anything :
"No father, no mother, Missie, no brothers or sisters;
father dead, mother dead, when him little boy of seven,
no one but one friend, him chokrah to Mr. --," and
he named a man -I knew in Moulmein. Of course with
natives mere wives do not count. and it does not do to
37
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CI-IINNASA\\'M\' CI-I J\FFIN(;
COOLIE GIHI.S
inquire too closely into domestic arrangements, but I
have no doubt there was a wife in Moulmein.
I was so unaccustomed to native servants that at first
I did not know what to do with the boy, or what to
ask him to do for me, which was the more important
of the two. I had heard so much about the prejudices
of caste and so on, that I feared telling him to do
something which he might refuse, and then I should
have been in a difficulty. I was quite aware it would
not do to let him see that I iras anything but authori
tative and self-confident, or his respect for me would
have vanished, so I always pretended to know every
thing, and gradually grew more used to the manners and
customs of the land. I must say for Chinnasawmy he did
everything I told him ; there was no question of caste.
I was never so well looked after in my life. He was
valet, interpreter, footman, cook, houseniaid, and every
thing else combined. He called me in the morning,
tidied my room whenever I came out of it, packed and
unpacked, accompanied me everywhere, and as he grew
to know me better his small attentions were quite
touching. If I were sitting in a deck chair on the
verandah he would fetch my cushion, or if I were
writing on my knee without the blotting-pad he would
get it ; he always noticed everything. He knew all my
possessions better than I did myself, and could lay his
hands on the tiniest trifle. I think he was never so
happy as when examining and handling my small be
longings, or tidying my trunks, shaking out alJ the
blouses and skirts ! It was amusing also to notice
how thoroughly he identified himself with me ; he used
p
to ask : " Our jam, Missie, or derwan's jam?" It was
always " our biscuits," "our tea," though of course he did
not touch these things himself. He did not give me
occasion to be angry with him, though I never over
looked anything he happened to do wrongly; but he
often saw me assert myself when other natives or half
castes were not so well-mannered as they should be, and
so he held me in wholesome awe.
l\1any people have an idea that all natives are rogues
and liars, only to be terrorised or dragooned into keeping
straight. This is, of course, absurd; service won on those
lines stands on a rotten foundation; but it is certainly
true that a slack, good-humoured master or mistress will
not win the same devotion as one who, though kind and
just, has the power of sternness. The native is child
enough to want strength in his protector, he respects a
master who is master. There is in fact a Tamil pro
verb: "A master without anger, a servant without
wages." No doubt many of the natives are entirely
without conscience as we consider it, but there is a small
minority born faithful, and Chinna was of this class. I
came across a few like him in some of the houses
of my friends, and generally found that they had
been with the household for twelve or fifteen years,
and were trusted members of it. He was never
cheeky, it was not in his nature, and he had not the
awful glib superficiality of my first attendant in Rangoon.
He was painstaking and sensible ; and, though I often
had to repeat an order twice slowly, I knew if he
said he understood I could rely on him. At the outset
I told him not to be afraid to ask again if he did not
understand anything, as it was better to ask than to
do the thing wrong.
I took tickets through Cook for the whole of the up
country tour, including both rail and steamer for the
boy and myself, and the whole cost me roughly between
fourteen and fifteen pounds. This carried us up by rail to
Mandalay, rail and steamer, or steamer alone, to Bhamo,
and back the same way ; by rail from Mandalay to
Maymyo and Gokteik and back, down from l\Iandalay
by river to Prome and from Prome by rail to Rangoon,
or practically over nearly all the railways there are in
the country.
We left Rangoon at midday on Monday, January 7,
and I was lucky enough to get a carriage to myself.
The trains in Burma are hot corridor, but each first-class
compartment has a lavatory attached to it. There are
generally only two first-class compartments on a train,
and the seats run longitudinally instead of transversely
as with us. There are, high up, two other seats, which
can be used as top berths at night if required. It is
always well, if possible, to give notice of your intention
of going, before the train starts, so that the carriage
can have an extra sweeping and dusting ; and this is
especially the case if a lady is travelling alone at night,
because by applying beforehand she can get one carriage
labelled "Ladies only," which is a great boon. The
Eurasians generally make for the second classes, and the
natives are crammed as tightly as herrings in a barrel
into the hard wooden thirds and very often locked in.
I knew I should have to spend the night on the train,
and had brought with me a resai, which, to use an
Irishism, is a kind of cheap " eider-down " stuffed with
cotton, a sheet, a rug, and a cushion, and I had also one
of those invaluable expanding Jap baskets, containing a
few things I might want. I was quite in the fashion
with my basket, for they are largely used in the
country, only they are generally covered with Willesden
canvas to keep out the wet and the insects. As luggage
is registered through, something of this kind is necessary
in the carriage.
I was not even yet altogether off on my own account,
for on arrival at a junction some few miles from Man
dalay I intended to change and go to Sagaing, a little
further down the river, there to stay for a day or so
with the Commissioner and his wife, who were friends
of Mrs. M.'s. The first part of the journey is very unin
terestrng, the line running through flat paddy-fields.
with sun-baked mud and yellow stagnant pools, in
which great buffaloes wallowed; buffaloes always in
spired me with loathing, they looked so unclean, like
immense black pigs. Near the stations were piles
of paddy-sacks waiting for transport. Soon the blue
Salween hills came into sight and rather broke the
monotony of the landscape, and tall grass with great
feathery heads of an exquisite whiteness, like snow, grew
along by the line. We passed Pegu, which was one of
the places I regretted not seeing, as there are wonder
ful pagodas there, and some curious colossal Buddhas.
From the railway one could see nothing. Pegu was
the headquarters of the Talaing or Mon race suppressed
by the Burmans. At about seven the train stopped at
a place called Toungoo, and we were given a short half-
5;, JI. R.1:i·n, 1/ds
SCE�E AT A RAILWAY STATION

S. ff. Rt:y,w!ds
MONSTER BUDDHA AT /\MARAPURA

THE ROAD TO MANDALAY n7
hour for dinner. This was the frontier town of the
English before the Third Burmese War. The refresh
ment room was passable, and the food pretty fair ;
there were two white men dining besides 1nyself, officers
rejoining their regiments at Maymyo ; I talked to one
of them a little, as here where Europeans are few and
far between one learns to be friendly at sight. When
I returned to my carriage I found that Chinna had
spread the rugs out very comfortably, making a bed
on the broad seat, and had filled my aluminium tea
apparatus with water to boil. Alas! I soon discovered
that the hideous jolting of the train prevented any ex
periments in that direction.
The light was very dim in the carriage, and it was
out of the question to read, but sitting there comfortably
watching the great stars, which seemed twice as bright
as in: England, seeing the station platforms with their ex
traordinary assortment of natives, and knowing that one
was being swiftly whirled along through a new country,
were occupation of thought enough for one evening.
I did not sleep badly, though I kept waking with
a start lest I should have missed the junction where I
was to change. We arrived at it at about six in the
morning. It was cold and very grey. As I peered out
I saw the strange name Myohaung, but no sign of
Chinna, whom I had told to get out and come to me. I
had to go along the train calling for him, and when at
last I found him he tumbled out as if he were hardly
awake. There did not seem to be any sign of an
official about, but there were many weird figures
swathed over head and shoulders in bath towels, which
118 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURl\L\.
seem to be the favourite wear for early morning. I told
him to ask one of these whether this was the right place at
which to change for Sagaing, and the figure so addressed
suggested with great volubility that we should get into
the train and go on to Mandalay. I patiently explained,
through the boy, that we were not going to Mandalay but
Sagaing : Bath-towel seemed to think that we had better
change our minds andgo toMandalay after all; apparently
it was his only idea. At last, moved by a brilliant in
spiration, I waved my hand to indicate the far side of
the platform, and asked where the train went to that
came in there. The answer being translated showed
that it ran to A marapura Shore and there stopped,
and Bath-towel very urgently advised us not to try it ;
but now I knew. Had not my directions told me that
I must get on a steamer before reaching Sagaing ? So,
in spite of much good advice, we let the Mandalay train
go on without us, and prepared to camp on the cheerless
platform until it should please Providence to send a
train that went in the opposite direction. I sat and
watched the yellow sunrise and found much to interest
me in the platform itself, decorated by poongyis in their
yellow robes, vendors of unwholesome sticky sweet
meats and decayed fish, and a variety of grotesquely
clad natives. One man had procured from somewhere
an Inverness cape, beneath which his bare brown legs
showed comically.
The boy made many friends, who helped him to carry
my small impedimenta and kept up a subdued chatter,
and thus an hour passed. At length the train came in,
not as one might expect, at the platform, but away
across· some lines. However, I had been on the look
out, feeling instinctively it would try to sneak away
without us if it could, so I saw through the manreuvre
and boarded it. After a long interval we moved out of
the station, and two of the men, with whom the boy
had apparently struck up a lifelong friendship, hung on
for quite a considerable way before dropping easily off
and walking back to the platform. The few miles
between Mandalay and Amarapura Shore are among
the most interesting I remember. I went over them
several times again and always at a foot's pace, though
this is not a little branch, as might be supposed, but
part of the only railway route to the north. One time
I remember there was no van, and so my large box had
to be hoisted on to the little platform outside the car
riage. It stood across the rail, and the boy held it on
all the time ; as long as we were pleased no one else
objected-it is not Germany. The jolting was terrible,
but even had it fallen it could not have come to much
grief, as we went so slowly. It was a scene fertile in
detail. On the telegraph wires were little green birds
with long tails and yellow heads; immense goats with
long flapping ears browsed abou� the rails and moved
away as we crawled up to them; numbers of worn grey
pagodas crumbling into ruin stood in melancholy groves
on each side; fascinating little thatch and mat huts
with deep brown shadows in their depths stood on legs,
and beneath them rolled children and pariah dogs. The
rich greens of the fresh plantain leaves made vivid colour
patches, and here and there was a sudden flash of richest
rose, and behold a web of silk of some twenty feet in
l�O A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
length stretched on a loom, with a woman working at
it by hand.
Amarapura was the capital of the country before
the uprising of Mandalay, and beyond it is another
ancient capital, Ava, from which the court took its
name. Soon we came in sight of the Sagaing hills
across the river, wrinkled in innumerable folds and
holding in every fold a small pagoda, which gleamed
white in the now steady sunlight. We crept along to
Amarapura Shore, and stopped on the very edge of the
river looking down a cliff-like bank of sand, beneath
which lay a large steamer. Here every one got out,
and I did the same. I struggled down the soft sliding
sand and crossed the gangway in safety. On the
steamer forward I found a pleasant deck and was glad to
get tea and toast and marmalade, for I was very hungry.
We remained where we were for perhaps forty
minutes, then slowly moved out across the river and
stopped at the other side. The whole scene was alive
with movement; I saw gay little sampans carrying
brightly-dressed passengers; on shore a man wrestled
with two little Burmese ponies gorgeous in tasselled
harness; it was all very bright and very clear. I sat
still drinking it in and enjoying myself immensely, until
it occurred to me we had waited there a very long time.
When were we going on to Sagaing ? I asked a native
who hovered about and had apparently something to
do with the boat, and he said this was Sagaing; it had
not occurred to me, certainly, that such a large steamer
was employed simply in going backwards and forwards
across a not very wide river !
STAT!O:\ AT A�I.\RAl'l"IC\ SHORE
41
SAG.\IN<; SIIO!ll::
THE ROAD TO MANDALAY 1�1
I struggled up another long and sandy bank in the
heat, which was now great, and at the top, near the
station, found a dog-cart waiting·; a few minutes later
my host and hostess came up on horseback. I had not
met them before, but when one is the only European on
train or steamer, as so often happens here, there is not
the same difficulty of identification as there might be,
say, at Waterloo.
We drove back along the margin of the river to the
bungalow. Sagaing is one of the prettiest places in
Burma. It is overshadowed by huge tamarinds, which
have a leaf something like an acacia, and combine shade
and grace inimitably. A bund runs along by the river,
and in the dry season, as when I was there, a stretch of
grass lies below reaching down to long sandbanks, but
in the wet season the water comes right up to the
bund. The bungalow is built on the very edge of the
bund and, surrounded by charming flowers and shrubs,
is a very model of homely comfort ; poinsettias, startling
in their glory, twice the height of a man, masses of
bougainvillea and beautiful broad-leaved plants, green
and gold, without number surrounded it.
Though Sagaing seems so peaceful from the banks of
the river, it is a busy place, where the making of earthen
ware pots and brass bowls is carried on to a large
extent. During the two days I stayed there I saw
many interesting sights. Huge ruined pagodas of red
and yellow brick, falling into decay by the roadside,
overgrown with shrubs and creepers, majestic in their
utter desolation, otners new and in good preservation
at· one a tiny boy was being taught by two women to
Q
I�� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
hold up an offering of food toward the shrine ; another,
bell-shaped and startlingly white, is very conspicuous
from a long distance round. One afternoon we rode to
the foot of the Sagaing hills. It was years since I had
been on horseback, and I felt considerable qualms in
anticipation; but the pony-he was only thirteen hands
one-who carried me behaved well, and, after all, it was
mostly walking, for the roads were just dried water
courses, full of great lumps and depressions. At the
base of the hills we left the ponies with the syces and
ascended by a broad red- brick causeway, very broken
and ruinous. Though it was after four o'clock the sun
was still very hot, and there were everywhere scrubby
bushes of very catchy thorns that made walking a diffi
culty. On one side of the hill we came to the " Thirty
Caves," an arcade with thirty openings. It is partly cut
out of the rock and partly artificial. Inside are seated
forty-five Buddhas, supposed to be exactly alike; they
are of plaster, painted, and by no means beautiful. We
adorned the neck of one with my puggaree, which had
been torn from my head by ·a high-growing thorn-tree
while I was riding, and it was impossible not to imagine
a smile of grim satisfaction on his face, while those on
each side seemed perceptibly sulkier. I am sure if one
watched an image of the Buddha long enough one
could imagine it moved. Then we descended into the
strangest nook-a broad court in a niche of the hillside,
with choungs and pagodas around it, and an evil-looking
tank loathsome with green slime ; in the courtyard were
several trees, including the sweet flowers of jasmine and
rose. The yellow sunlight lay peacefully on the hill,
THE ROAD TO MANDALAY 1�8
ut here was all dark shadow and it was very quiet ;
we only saw one old woman. Then we walked along
the summit of the ridge on a flagged causeway. We
climbed at last, after looking down on numerous
pagodas, to the highest part of the ridge where is the
largest of all, and here w.e waited to see the sun set.
The river makes a great elbow, almost a right angle,
round the hill, and can be seen on both sides. As the
sun fell the hills became amethyst and the river pale
green.
The intense quietness and stillness sank like dew into
my Londoner's soul. The sounds that were heard were
only sufficient to call attention to the quality of stillness
that was in the air. The shrill scream of a jungle-cock,
the gentle cooing of a wood-pigeon, a murmur of soft
voices rising up the hillside, and now and again the
tinkle of one silver-toned bell from the htee of the
pagoda. Near by was a frangipanni-tree, with its sweet
white blossoms scenting the air. The sun, huge in
diameter, touched the edge of the horizon, where it was
as flat as the sea, and seemed to drop behind it all at
once. There followed a magnificent lingering red-gold
glow, broken up by the wedge-shaped streamers I have
never seen in England.
At this spot� watching another sunset, stood Colonel
Yule, in 1855, with the other members of the mission
sent to King Mindon Min at Amarapura. Yule says:
" Nothing on the Rhine could be compared to it." A
little further on he states: " It might have been Venice,
it looked so beautiful." And again: "Our impression
was that the Lake of Como could not be finer, and those
1�4 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
who had seen Como said it was not." Truly the scene
lost nothing by the variety of his comparisons 1 To me
it was just Burma, and not in the least like any Euro
pean country.
We wandered down another broken red causeway
with jagged uneven steps, and at the foot met the
ponies which the syces had brought along, and so home
in the evening air.
I found it impossible to "do" Mandalay, as I had
hoped, from Sagaing. Though only ten miles distant
the train takes an interminable time, and the last one
leaves Mandalay at three in the afternoon, after which
comes the best part of the day ; so reluctantly I took
farewell of my kind hosts, and, carrying with me
ineffaceable memories of beautiful Sagaing, went into
Mandalay.
CHAPTER VII
THE GOLDEN CITY
MY first vision of Mandalay, the Golden City, was not

an insp1r1ng one. The train got in about midday, and I
looked out upon a good-sized station, and a strong fence
guarded by a ticket-collector, behind whom appeared
the motliest throng I had yet seen. I did not know
there was another exit for the first-class passengers, and
so I meekly followed my luggage as it was carried out
to the gharries through this thronging crowd. I knew
better another time. As the box and the gharry were
about the same size, there was some difficulty in fitting
the one on to the other, but it was done. I squeezed
inside into the very small space that the remainder of
my possessions left for me, and looked on with amuse
ment while poor Chinnasawmy, with the expression of
an old sheep amid a pack of ravening wolves, attempted
to satisfy the demands of those who thronged upon him
for backsheesh in compensation for their share in lifting
the said box to its perilous position.
When we finally got away from their clamour and on
to the road outside, I was surprised to see tram-lines ;
an electric car runs right down to the shore of the river,
about three. miles away. It is a great boon, as it goes
much more quickly and smoothly than a gharry, and the
front part is reserved for first-class passengers. Very
near the station is the dak bungalow. standing in a dusty
compound. I had not then tried the delights of a dak
bungalow, but was destined to have that gap in my
experience amply filled.
The address I had given to the gharry wallah was that
of Gales's hotel, for though I had been preceded at
Mandalay by a note of introduction to the Deputy
Commissioner, I had learned from my friends at Sagaing
he was much harassed on account of an outbreak of
plague, and I did not want to bother him further. Also,
in my innocence, I fancied the hotel would do very well.
There is besides the hotel in Mandalay a boarding
house and circuit house, as well as the dak bungalow.
An ordinary visitor must try for accommodation at the
first two before he can be admitted to the third, unless
he has a letter of introduction from the Deputy-Com
m1ss10ner. As for the circuit house, that is a very
superior place indeed, reserved for Government and
other officials.
The road from the station comes out on one side of
the moat which lies four-square in the town, enclosing
the old red wall of the palace. Along this we passed,
and down another side, before turning into the town
proper, where there were wide streets of whitewashed
and other buildings, some substantial and some untidy,
but all lacking any sort of interest or beauty.
Externally the hotel did not look unprepossessing, but
internally --
I was told there was only one room vacant, and that
THE GOLDEN CITY 1�7
was on the ground floor. I was led to it through the
principal eating-room, where several English people
were having tiffin. On the raising of a dirty curtain I
saw the filthiest room it has ever been my lot to enter :
the stained, discoloured walls had once been white
washed; the mattresses that lay uncovered on two
rickety wooden bedsteads effioresced a strong odour;
there was plenty of evidence of other occupants of an
indescribable nature. From one side of the room
opened off a noisome cupboard, absolutely dark, and
about the size of a large hearthrug. This was the bath
room ! I stepped across and looked out of the window
into a pestilential back-yard surrounded by high walls.
For this accommodation the native in charge demanded
eight rupees a night ! I wondered what I looked like,
and would have glanced at the glass had there been
such a thing. Evidently my 1nonth in the East had not
rubbed off the European bloom to any great extent. It
was the work of a few minutes to get out a sheet of
note-paper and write a note adding to the worries of the
Deputy-Con1missioner by asking him to tell me of any
accommodation-clean-where I could lodge. 'Then I
left my luggage at the hotel for the while and drove
back all along the side of the moat to the Deputy-Com
missioner's house, which lay away from the town in the
residential part, eastward.
Even in small ways one is continually pulled up by
ignorance of the language; it is odd to be unable to carry
on a conversation with the servant who answers the
front door of a house, yet many of the house servants
did not speak English. By the aid of the boy, how-
ever, I arrived at the fact that the Deputy-Commissioner
was at the court house, and, still by the aid of the boy,
I instructed the gharry wallah to drive there. Even
with the sun-shutters as a protection, the inside of a
gharry at midday is like an oven, and I never felt so
nearly roasted in my life as when I sat outside that
court house waiting to get my note in to the Deputy
Commissioner, who was engaged in a very important
case. A hasty line telling me to go to the circuit
house was my reward at length, and, though I felt very
grateful, I did not realise until later the immense boon
which had been bestowed on me, for the Mandalay
circuit house is deservedly famous throughout the land.
It stands in a large compound near the south-eastern
corner of the palace wall overlooking the moat, with a
full view of the Shan hills to the eastward. It is large
and well built of teak. On the ground floor is a room
used as a dining-room. Upstairs are three suites of large
rooms, each with a section of wide verandah cut off from
the next by a partition for a sitting-room, and a bed
room and bath-room behind. The middle suite I found
occupied on my arrival, so I took the eastern, which was
really far the best, as it commanded a view of the lovely
hills. The derwan, who was a very respectful and
obliging old man, told me that if I liked he would " do "
for me all day at the reasonable rate of four rupees eight
annas, including afternoon tea, and this I accepted.
The delight of finding myself in these cool, airy, clean
quarters was great. I sent the boy for the luggage, and,
bein g very tired and hot with so much rattling about in
the heat of the day, I lay down and had a sweet siesta.
4'2
TH!c MOAT, MANDALAY

43
BRIDGE OVER THE MO.\T, Mi\NDAL,\Y

THE GOLDEN CITY 1�9
The four days I passed here were among the happiest
I spent in Burma. The severe simplicity of the dark
teak surroundings-floor� walls and ceiling-appealed to
me, and the views from the open verandah were a
constant source of joy.
Right opposite, across the road, was the mirror-like
moat, half-covered by flat lotus-leaves, though the
lilies themselves were not out at this. time. Behind the
moat, which was fift·y yards in. width, rose a high wall
of- weather-worn red brick with crenelated parapet.
Look-out towers or pyathats of a deep maroon colour,
with pinnacled, decorated roofs rising storey above
storey, adorned the corners and the gates. Mandalay
Hill, a conical and not very high hill, rose beyond above
the tree tops that were enclosed by the palace wall. To
the east were the Shan hills, the edge of the great
plateau of elevated land that extends for miles in the
centre of the country, and as the sun dropped in the
west, lights and colours indescribable appeared in the
heights and hollows. They glowed with all the mystery
and variety of a jewel, changing every moment.
Along the broad road by the moat came a constant
though straggling procession that afforded me never
ending amusement. A purdah woman in brilliant puce,
her face hidden in the folds of her garment, a garment
so cleverly adjusted that it was robe and skirt and head
dress all in one. Two natives lazily manipulating a
little hand-cart, by means of which they drew water
from the moat, and sprayed it on the road, arousing
such a cloud of steam and dust as showed the roadway
to ha.ve been well-nigh red-hot. A gharry crammed
It
with well-to-do Burmans, the ends of their pink scarfs
fluttering from the windows. A slow-moving bullock
cart, so laden with paddy-straw that the bullocks them
selves were half-covered by it. A stout Burman, his
lyungi caught halfway up his legs, and his umbrella
tucked under his arm, making a brilliant spot of colour
in his pink and crimson, as he walked in a businesslike
way along the margin of the moat. A rather drabby
looking native with a Burman wife, whose strut was
even more pronounced than that of the generality of
her sisters.
Presently the military band of a native regiment
dressed in khaki enlivened the scene. As the afternoon
grew late European residents appeared. A motor-car
spun past, then a high dog-cart with two ladies in white
in it, and so on ; the variety of the procession was
inexhaustible; it is going on still from day to day, but
I no longer can look out on it from the dark teak
verandah, except with the eye of memory.
Oh, that verandah, what peaceful days it enshrined
for me 1 The furniture was severely simple but perfectly
adequate; a wooden table, a deck chair, an upright
chair, a small table, a lamp and a waste-paper basket,
and what could any rational being want more ? The
waste-paper basket was the touch of genius that rounded
the whole thing into perfection.
The derwan brought me up a tray with good tea, and
toast and jam, which was very welcome. At first one
does not mind the toast, which is always exactly the
same, with a kind of smoky flavour about it, doubtless
from being done at a wood fire; but after a while it
THE GOLDEN CITY 131
palls. I had it twice a day regularly, for the native
bread was, to me at least, uneatable. The tea is
generally fair, but to get milk is a difficulty. The
Burmans do not milk their cows, and think our doing
so disgusting. Colonel Yule, in his interesting book
The lJfission to the Court of Ava, suggests that one
reason why the cattle in Burma are so flourishing is
that the calves get all the milk. Even many of the
English residents use condensed milk, finding the real
stuff difficult to obtain, and as, of all unpalatable pro
ductions, condensed milk is the most abominable, I
frequently used a slice of lime instead. English jam is
largely imported and easy to get almost everywhere ; it
was a great boon to me, as the butter varies much and
is sometimes uneatable ; much of it is tinned, but I
discovered that tinned or not it is always improved by
washing, a fact that I learned from Chinnasawmy,
who used to turn rank yellow stuff into something soft
and white like cream cheese.
I did not in the least know how to set about seeing
the sights of Mandalay, nor did I even know what they
were ; I had no guide-book, and Burma is not like
England, where one has only to ask. After tea I took
a gharry and went to the post-office for my letters ; in
doing so I had to drive the length of the moat again,
and got a clearer idea of it. It is a mile and an eighth
long on each of the four sides ; on the inner side it is
overlooked by the wall which enclosed the old city-not
that it was very old, for the whole of Mandalay only
dates from 1858. This part is now called the fort, and
in the centre lie the congeries of the palace buildings.
13fl A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
The moat is crossed by one bridge in the centre of each
side, and an extra one on the west. The four principal
bridges lead up to massive entrances in the walls, great
gateways painted snowy white, faced by a huge block
of masonry for defensive purposes and crowned by a
maroon pyathat. The whole effect is very fine. The
curiously shaped bridges and the great white artificial
cliffs to· which they lead up are almost dazzling in the
sunshine, casting deep blue shadows; Outside the fort
is the new city laid out in rectangles with long straight
roads, very broad and very dull. It was very different
from my imaginings, which had prompted me to look
for dark shadows and wonderful lights, quaint carving
and grotesque narrow vistas at every turn. Almost
every one expects the same thing of Mandalay and is
surprised at the reality. Instead of a city of palaces it
is a city of hovels with a palace in the centre. The
whole interest and scenic effect linger round the palace
and the one or two other objects of interest scattered at
s01ne distance from each other.
The post-office is quite near Gales's hotel ; the assist
ants there were most pleasant and obliging, as indeed
I found all the Babus and Eurasians employed in
Government service with whom I came in contact.
They were particularly so at Mandalay, forwarding my
correspondence when I left,. and taking a deep personal
interest in it. One time when I went there to send off
my watch by post, the man in charge asked me what it
was, 5uggested I had done it up inadequately, and
invited me inside while he found a suitable box and
repacked it himself I The telegraph-office was in
H
CHINN.·\S .-\11.MY IN DOORll·.\y OF Qlil·:l·::\'S

AP.-\1'Ti1IENTS, l\l.\ND.\L\Y
I',
/I COURT IN THE PALACE, MANDALAY

TUE GOLDEN CITY 133
another block from the post-office ; this is generally so
in Burma, the two are kept quite separate. Letters are
erratic and undependable, but telegrams can always be
relied on, and you may have them any one of three
classes, special, ordinary or deferred. Deferred is the
most generally used, and the idea is, I suppose, they
may be set aside until the line is clear, but they always
seemed to go very promptly, and one only pays four
annas for ten words, not including address.
I_ did not do anything else that afternoon, for I was
glad enough to get back to that glorious verandah and
watch the light glowing in roseate hues on the Shan
hills. I heard the occupant of the next suite of rooms
striding up and down and talking to a clerk, so was not
surprised when eight o'clock came and I descended for
dinner, to find him there too. He was an Inspector in
the Education Department, and when I explained my
position, he very kindly · offered to lend me a Burman
clerk (than whom there is no better guide), to show me
round next day; he said he would not give me his own
clerk, but borrow the Deputy Inspector's, and the only
man who would" grouse" was the deputy, and that did
not matter, with all of which I perfectly agreed. We
arranged for the clerk to be there at 7.30 next
.
morning.
Notwithstanding the alarming noises the pigeons or
rats made in the high gabled roof, I slept like a top that
night. When I awoke I found the whole place bathed
in a sheet of white mist. As the sun rose this melted
away and every twig and branch dripped refreshingly,
while tiny whiffs of steam rose from all over the moat
as if it were hot water. It was distinctly cooler than it
had been down country. Punctual to time the Burman
clerk appeared below with a gharry. He was a nice
looking, pleasant-mannered boy, dressed native fashion,
with a pink turban ; he salaamed prettily when he saw
me. I asked him where we should go first and he
suggested the palace and "729" pagodas in the morn
ing, and perhaps the Arakan pagoda, which was rather
far out, in the afternoon. I wondered where he was
going to sit, for there was no room for him on the box,
and he looked rather too superior to hang on behind the
gharry as Chinna did, but a trifle like that presents no
difficulty to the easy-going Burman. He scrambled up
past the wild unkempt native driver and jumped on to
the roof, where he enjoyed himself hugely, having a
grand holiday regardless of his superior's "grousing."
His name he told me was Moung Lu Poe. We crossed
one of the fascinating maroon and white bridges, rounded
the mass of white masonry defending the gate, and passed
within the walls into a wide open space, with a few
scattered houses and trees and immense tracts of khaki
coloured grass on which khaki-coloured regiments were
drilling. It was difficult mentally to reconstruct the
scene as it must have been before the English cleared
out the six thousand houses that stood therein, leaving
the palace free in the centre. It seemed quite a long
way before we came to the palace, which is not what
we associate with the word at all, but a group or congeries
of detached buildings set at all angles around courts of
various sizes. They are now open free to all comers,
though formerly the English residents had a club here,
THE GOLDEN CITY 135
and there was much grumbling when the clubites were
forced to go elsewhere.
The buildings are all of one storey ; even the great
seven-roofed spire of the King's House, the most im
posing of all, is a sham, having no upper stories. This
peculiarity is due to the fact of the Burman's great
dislike to knowing that another man's feet are over
his head.
There is a certain similarity between the buildings,
and the general impression is that of wonderful vistas
and gorgeous detail, with the blackest shadows and
glowing light. l n one of the courts there was a large
bougainvillea, whose royal magenta blossoms showed up
startlingly against the white walls near. Dark interiors
were unexpectedly lit up by gleams falling upon the
stout red and gold columns, and some of the apartments
were completely panelled with mirror-mosaic of fine
design : as its garishness was toned by age the effect was
good. Through the dark gloom of the unwindowed
rooms, through bright courts and again into gloom, the
eye was carried on from door to door to see at last
perhaps the figure of a guardian in a dark blue uniform
and red sash standing motionless framed in light. The
gleam of a dark green balustrade caught the attention,
and though it was made of nothing but a row of glass
bottles the detail is not unhandsome. In the Queen's
apartments the mirrors on the walls are hand-painted
with flowers, and the walls of another room near are
entirely carved and perforated. The golden seven
roofed spire springs gracefully through the soda-water
bottle shape to a golden htee. Beneath this is the
huge gilt throne set thick with looking-glass panels, and
founded on living human flesh and blood :-
" Mandalay was commenced in 1858. . . . When
the foundations of the city wall were laid fifty-two
persons of both sexes, and of various age and rank, were
consigned to a living tomb. Three were buried under
each of the twelve city gates, one at each of the four
corners, one under each of the palace gates, and at the
corners of the timber stockade, and four beneath the
throne itself. The selection had to be made with care,
for the victims were required to be representative
people, born on special days of the week, and the boys
buried were not to have any tattoo marks on them, the
girls not to have their ears bored. When it was known
that the troops were making the collection, no one
was to be seen about the streets except in great
bands in the middle of the day. The Government
gave a series of magnificent dramatic entertainments,
but no one went to see them. Eventually, however, the
tale was made up and the building went on apace."*
The steps of the golden throne were oftentimes
crowded with princes of the blood-royal, all of whom
were destined to come to a violent death by the fears of
the reigning monarch. The doors of the throne-room
are elaborately carved and gilt. I took a photo of my
guide sitting in one of them, but unfortunately the
scaffolding belonging to some repairs then going on has
spoiled the effect. In the Hall of Audience near the
throne-room are rows of stately gold pillars which, when
* "The Burman: His Life and Notions." By Sir J. G. Scott,
K.C.I.E.
-1,;
. . . I. l' 1•ii1-. · \ I' T 111·: l)III I R 1 >F

\J11L·:,;,, 1111·:
. l\1 H J.\J, \l.\:,;U.\I .. \\'
1111.:tl .\' F·
47
THE KING'S HOUSE, MAND.\LJ\Y

THE GOLDEN CITY 137
the sun gets low and strikes in horizontally, glow as if
they were transparent. The only other two points of
interest in the grounds are the high wooden watch-tower,
which is worth ascending because of the view, and the
museum, where may be seen quaint little figures dressed
in the costumes of the old court, a style of dress still
always adopted at the Pwes or plays. The palace was
built during the reign of King Mindon, the predecessor
of Theebaw, and the capital was then transferred here.
The Burmese were very fond of changing their capitals,
and numbers of old cities can claim to have been chief
of the country in their time.
The English had annexed Tennasserim, Arakan
and part of Martaban in 1826, and the Pegu district
after the second war in 1852. The Burmese king at this
time refused to cede any part of the country which had
been conquered by the British, and it was useless to
attempt to get him to sign any treaty defining the
boundary between what remained to him of the country
and that taken by the English. Therefore the Viceroy,
Lord Dalhousie, drew a line across the map following
a parallel of latitude and declared that to be the
boundary, a sensible proceeding, but one which would
probably nowadays call forth a howl from the Little
Englanders.
King Mindon died in 1878 and was succeeded by one
of his thirty sons, namely Theebaw, whose mother had
made herself mistress of the palace. Theebaw's reign of
bloodshed and cruelty went frorn bad to worse. Only a
short time after his accession he ordered a massacre of
the majority of his relatives. All who did not escape
s
were seized and either beaten to death with bludgeons
or half strangled. The bodies of the women and
children, in some cases only half dead, were pitched into
a large pit prepared for them and the earth stamped
down ; it is said that it moved uneasily for three days
subsequently. The corpses of the men, the royal
princes, were thrown into the Irrawaddy, having been
conveyed there in eight cart-loads. The whole holocaust
included about eighty victims. The remonstrances of
the British Resident were treated with contempt ; mas
sacres and cruelties continued remorselessly. In 1884
they reached their height, when the number of men,
women and children brutally murdered in a short time
was between two and three hundred.
" On the day after the chief massacre the corpses were
carted out of the city, and were exposed for some days
in the burial-ground on the west. Here they remained
mutilated, putrefying, and uncovered with earth to
show how terrible a thing it was to incur the royal
displeasure. Hands and legs were hacked off to loosen
the prison irons, before the putrefying bodies were thrown,
in heaps of four and five together, into shallow graves,
and given an insufficient covering of about a foot of
earth. While these atrocities were being perpetrated
-ind pigs and pariah dogs unearthed the corpses and
battened on the loathsome feast thus plentifully provided
for them by the inhumanity of the king, his consort,
and his ministers-high festival was being hel,d within
the palace. Theatrical performances were given con
tinuously night after night."*
• "Burma under British Rule and Before." By John Nisbet.
THE GOLDEN CITY 139
'' Fresh massacres took place in the capital; bands of

robbers infested the country and raided at will into
the British territory; the greater part of the tributary
Shan States rose in rebellion and the whole of Upper
Burma became disorganised, with the inevitable result
of a paralysis of our trade."*
At length in October 1885 the British Government
took notice of the cries and bloodshed, and sent a force
to advance on Mandalay, an expedition which ended in
the annexation of Upper Burma, when Theebaw was
exiled, to spend the remainder of his life in durance
in India.
This book is nothing but a personal travel-book and
does not profess to · treat in any way of the history of
Burma, but it is impossible to avoid thus touching very
slightly on the scenes of horror so recently enacted in
the great open spaces now lying peacefully beneath the
cloudless sky. Bloodshed and cruelty seemed far enough
off on that glorious morning when I wandered through
the sunlit courts ablaze with sunshine, and was watched
curiously by the quiet guardians.
We left the palace by the eastern gate and went
straight to the famous shrines of Kutho-daw or the
Royal Merit House built by Theebaw's uncle, where the
whole of the Buddhist scriptures are inscribed on black
slabs enclosed in small shrines. This is known by
various names, among which the most popular is the 729
pagodas. The shrines are all arranged in parallel lines on
the sides of a square, in the midst of which rises a white
pagoda. They are not very large, and each one has a
• Sir J. G. Scott, K.C.l.E.
little dome at the top, and is pierced by four openings
showing within the slab of black stone like a tombstone,
beautifully inscribed with the scriptures. By mounting
to the platform of the central pagoda a very good idea
can be gained of the whole. The whiteness of the little
white shrines is emphasised here and there by rich and
heavy evergreen shrubs, and behind may be seen the far
away hills.
Not very far fr0111 the Kutho-daw are some interest
ing choungs, and also the Incomparable Pagoda, which
was partly burnt not long ago. This is surrounded by
a row of small shrines, in each of which is a roughly
made figure of a poongyi kneeling in adoration. Behind
rises Mandalay Hill, of no very great height, though it
entails a rough scramble to get to the summit. It is
covered with scrub, and is a fine place in which to en
counter snakes. From the top there is a wide view of
the great plain in which Mandalay lies, and from one
point a very striking glimpse of the Kutho-daw. After
this expedition I returned to lunch and rest, asking
Moung Lu Poe to come again at 4.30 to take me out,
to which he willingly agreed. I found the derwan had
provided a very good breakfast of several courses, in
cluding, of course, curry, and that my friend the
Education Inspector had departed.
At 4.30 punctually my guide arrived with a gharry
and we started off for the Arakan pagoda of which I had
heard so much. This is a long drive, two or three miles
at least, and anything but pleasant. The way seemed
to go on endlessly over very dusty wide roads, with
medium-sized trees beside tl:_iem, also white with dust.
THE Kl""I"HU D.\W, M .\Nll.\L.\Y
A STREET SCENE, MANDALAY
THE GOLDEN CITY 141
It seems impossible that people can live healthily in such
a welter of dust ; they must breathe it and eat it con
tinually. The roads were lined mostly by small huts,
many of them dilapidated, with the framework very much
askew, and the plaited mats which formed the walls
frayed at the edges. They were well spaced out, stand
ing apart from one another with dusty growth of tree or
plantain beside them. All the huts were raised two or
three feet from the ground, and beneath them swarmed
huge goats and enormous black pigs like boars, skinny
hens, and naked children. The houses were often quite
open in front, and domestic arrangements went on in full
view of all the neighbours. It was curious to see the
handwork done outside in the roadway, and how the
trades tended to segregate. One man was working at
good wicker chairs, and a row of chair-makers would be
near him ; then ca1ne a colony of shoemakers, the red and
emerald velvet toes showing up gaily. The manufacture
of little wooden toys painted in gaudy colours is a
favourite industry in the neighbourhood of the pagoda.
A row of sewing-1nachines would proclaim a colony of
dhurzies, and then in the middle of all the dirt, right in
the roadway, I saw a man cooking flat cakes on a kind
of gridiron.
At length we saw the Arakan pagoda, but it is
hemmed in, and does not stand to such advantage as the
Shwe Dagon. Outside the entrance were two immense
leogryphs, passing between which we went up a long
arcade, but to my great disappointment the stalls
were nearly all shut and the place deserted, Moung
Lu Poe told me the people went away early on
account of the plague. I asked him if he were
afraid of infection, but he shook his head with a smile.
The great feature of the pagoda is the huge golden
Iluddha of peculiar sanctity. This was brought from
Arakan in 1784, and to it the pagoda owti'i its name.
When we came round to the shrine where it was I
found a crowd of some twenty or thirty people bowing
and intoning their monotonous chant. Rows of small
candles, stuck by their grease on to the floor, were gut
tering in the draught before the great image. Moung Lu
Poe told 1ne I might pass in front of the crowd without
offence, and holding my muslin skirts so as not to catch
alight, I did so. The Buddha is colossal, but so hemmed
in by his straitened walls that he is not seen to advan
tage. One or two Burmans were arranging a kind of
paper robe around him, which my guide explained was
to " take care of him," for though his face is brass, and
not gold, like Mah Shwe Bwin's Buddha, his body is
all covered with gold leaf. The expression of his brazen.
countenance is hard and cruel, and he wears a great tiara
like a pope. The W oondouk, a Burmese official, said
to l\1ajor Phayre, of the 1855 embassy: "It is a faithful
representation of the living original. When the Lord
Gaudama visited Arakan, Chanda Surya was the king of
that country. The Buddha being about to depart, the
king prayed him to leave his blessed resemblance and
substitute with them as some consolation for his absence.
The Buddha consented. Several attempts were made to
cast an image, but they all failed. At length, by the
divine interposition, the present image was successfully
obtained." (Col. Yule.)
THE GOLDEN CITY 143
This accounts for the great veneration with which the
image is regarded. When it is considered that it is
about twelve feet high and of solid brass, to bring it over
the Arakan Yoma seems a re1narkable feat. It is sup
posed to have been brought in several pieces.
It was a strange sensation to be standing in that small
chamber surrounded closely by those people separated
by such gulfs of tradition and racial characteristics from
me. In the semi-dimness the voices chanted louder and
louder for my benefit, and the men aloft grinned down
and asked my Burman if I would like the cloth or robe
removed. I assented at once, and they disclosed the
gold leaf with which the brazen body of the image is
lavishly encrusted by the devotion of generations. As I
passed out three haggard old nuns set upon me with
cries for pice. I happened to have three, though
such small coins rarely came my way, so I gave them
into one skinny clutching hand, meaning its owner to
share them with the others; not a bit of it, having got
them she incontinently bolted, and the others clamoured
more wildly than before. I had no more pice, but pro
duced a two anna bit. l\1oung Lu Pc>e pr01nptly
intercepted it as I was about to give it to them, and
explaining that it was far too much for a donation, took
it to a stall to get it changed. He failed in his quest,
and then asked one of the toothless old crones for
change. From some 1nysterious fold in her drab
garments she produced a dirty bit of rag in which were
knotted seven pice. l\1y wise guide thereupon gave
each of the old women one pice on condition that they
went away, which they did.
I bought some of the cheap and gaudy tigers and
monkeys sold here, which delight children, and after
strolling round the pagoda we returned to the gharry.
My guide told me he was now going to show me the
Queen's choung, otherwise called the Golden Monastery,
and away we jolted merrily, he still enjoying his exalted
position on the roof. The Queen's choung is one of those
things which no one who visits Mandalay should fail to
see. It is a perfectly magnificent building, standing in
a very large parawoon or compound over-shadowed
by large trees. Loathsome pariah dogs of very large
size rushed out to bark at us, making the air resound
with their yelps. The neighbourhood of a choung
attracts many of their kind, for the overflowing
begging-bowls of the poongyis provide an ample surplus
for such undesirable pensioners. Though the noise the
dogs make is terrifying to any one nervous, they are not
ferocious ; never having been unkindly treated, they
have no cause to hate man. By nature curs, they slink
away at the merest threat of a stick or stone, and it is
well it is so, for a bite from mouths such as theirs would
probably be poisonous.
A mighty trunk lay prostrate in the compound, and
the yellow-robed brethren swarmed around it, rolling it
along over the smooth ground. This sight surprised
me, as I was under the impression they did po physical
work at all, but this my guide contradicted ; he said the
log had evidently been a present to them, and they were
going to cut it up for their own use. They all stopped
their work to stare at us, but taking no heed of them,
we went on toward the choung.
5. I/. R ·_1·J!1•/Js
TJJl{EJ•: 11.\GG.\l<I> Ul.ll :\l':\S

51
5. II. N1J 11olds

1
TIIE GOLDEN MU:\.\STl·:RY, M.\l\D . .\L.\Y

THE GOLDEN CITY 145
It rose in a seven-fold roof in tiers of rusty gold
high against the thrilling blue of the sky. Every square
inch of the walls was carved and covered with gilt;
when the sun caught one corner it shone out radiating
rich light. The choungs I saw were all on the same
pattern; the ground floor is unused and is, in fact,
merely an open space between posts which serves as a
playground for the boys who are taught in the choung.
A short flight of steps leads to a verandah, fro1n the
centre of which rises the main building; in this as in
other Burman buildings there is but one storey, though
the impression is of many. I peeped into a sort of
broad corridor which ran round it opening on to the
verandah, and saw several poongyis lying about in
sleepy content on mats and mattresses. Some children
had followed us up out of curiosity, and among them
was one small boy with the shaven poll and yellow
raiment of the neophyte ; he looked so very young that
I asked his age and was told he was only ten. By this
time several of the poongyis themselves had joined us,
and stood close around with their curious yellowish
faces repeating the hue of their garments ; their beetle
brown eyes were unpleasant, and their expression sensual
and lowering. The life they lead, in its perpetual sloth
and lack of interest, is not one to encourage spirituality,
and it is wonderful that worse results do not arise fr01n
it. These particular poongyis had evidently no scruple
about looking at a woman, or perhaps a white w01nan
did not count in their code; anyway they ca1ne very
near indeed, and scrutinised me so eagerly that I should
not have been surprised to feel their long thin parch-
T
ment fingers in contact with my dress. Though they
refrained from actually touching me, they asked many
questions of my guide, and when at last I inquired if I
might see inside the shrine they assented gleefully, as
proud as children to show off their treasures.
The first moment I entered the gloom of the hall
after the brilliancy of the sunshine outside, I could see
nothing but outlines of pillars; then, as my pupils
enlarged, I made out various objects heavily carved.
The poongyis lit a candle and gave it to Moung Lu Poe
to hold, then they almost tumbled over each other in
their extreme eagerness to point out the rich design of
the wood carving that ran along the balustrade sur
rounding the shrine. It was in extraordinarily high
relief, undercut to the depth of two or three inches, and
represented babies and dragons, fruit and flowers. I was
then invited further up into the holy of holies. Once
again for a moment there came over me almost over
poweringly that sense of strange aloneness; here in the
dimness with only one flickering candle was I sur
rounded by a people so utterly alien in habit, religion
and thought that the gulf seemed verily impassable, but
the moment passed and I looked on them once more as
I had done, as children.
Then a cloth was removed, and the greatest treasure
of all was exhibited; it was Gautama's tooth, a tusk
about the size of my little finger, resembling a boar's
tusk, poised on wire over a bunch of wax flowers in a
glass case. Moung Lu Poe was anxious to impress on
me the very great honour it was for me to see it, as
such a holy relic is usually buried in the heart of a
THE GOLDEN CITY ]47
mighty pagoda, and in any case is rarely shown to a
stranger, and I did my best to live up to the expecta
tions of 1ny appreciation.
The poongyis asked through the interpreter where I
came from, and when I told them London they repeated
it in various odd intonations. I tried to carry on some
conversation, inquiring how they spent their days; they
replied they prayed and taught, but when I expressed
a wish to see the schoolboys I was told, " boys
dis1nissed."
As I finally 1noved away I asked my guide if I
should give them anything, but he said they were
forbidden to take 1noney, so I could only wish them
a cordial good-bye, and left them standing there rather
blankly, as if the unwanted excitement had left a
flatness behind.
This was on a Friday. I spent the whole of the next
day in Mandalay too. The bazaar is well worth visiting;
it is all very modern and clean and neat, utterly
different from the dark noisy narrow alleys of the
Moulmein bazaar. Here one can see in perfection the
dainty little Burmese maidens, who run about and laugh,
and even put their arms round you if you give the1n the
least encouragement. At one stall in particular, C 12,
I was fascinated by the glory of the silks; especially
by the peculiar yellow that one can get nowhere else,
which turns to saffron and orange and gold, all in
different folds. Here were also lovely mauves and
blues, though these are not fashionable Burmese colours.
vVhen we passed on to a second stall, the keeper of the
first, a dainty little maiden, ran after us, and, through
the boy, said she could show us another good stall
where were many other kinds of silk. We followed her
and she led us promptly back to her own, a specimen
of ingenious trading not without its humour.
I had meant to leave at eight o'clock on Sunday
morning on the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company's cargo
boat going up to Bhamo, because I had been told she
carried a bazaar aboard, and that the Burmans came
down from all the river-side villages to buy, affording a
series of pictures well worth seeing. But, alas I I heard
from the agent that the cargo-boat had not come down,
no one knew where she was, probably stuck on a sand
bank ; the one fact certain was that she could not
possibly start north again on Sunday morning. This
was a disappointment, as, if I went by train to Katha, and
then by river to Bhamo, I missed much good scenery,
and especially the great bell at Mengohn. However,
there was no help for it, so I made preparations to leave
Mandalay by the midday train on Monday, and re
luctantly parted from the city where I had spent four
really happy days.
52
" T' , " Ids
J\ POONGYI
.\ // N,')'IIIIIIIS
BALLJSTRAllE ,\T THI•: GUI.DEN �l<ii'i.\STEJ{Y,

MANDJ\I.AY
CHAPTER VIII
TO THE FAR NORTH
MANDALAY is generally the limit for the flying tourist
who rushes up from Rangoon by train and goes down
by mail-boat, giving barely one day to the famous royal
city, but a certain number of tourists penetrate as far
as Bhamo, which is perhaps half as far north of l\1andalay
as Mandalay is from Rangoon. Though the distance is
shorter the journey is longer, and the route by rail
involves some complication. One leaves 1"1andalay at
mid-day and arrives at daybreak at a junction called
Naha ; here a change is made to a little branch line
which deposits one on the river's bank at Katha-the
remainder of the main line running on to Myitkhyina.
The steamer which leaves Katha daily in the 1niddle of
the morning goes slowly through the grand scenery of
the Middle Defile and ties up for the night above it,
moving on again the following day, so as to get to
Bhamo about eleven.
Besides my disappointment at missing so much of the
river by taking rail to Katha, there was the crawl down
to Amarapura again, and the ferry at Sagaing to
negotiate, and the disagreeable necessity of spending
a night on the none too clean cushions of the railway
carriage, but it had to be faced. The station-master at
Mandalay was extremely civil and obliging, and I had a
carriage to myself, so I could not grumble. After cross
ing the river and climbing the sandbank to Sagaing
station I was rewarded by an unexpected and pretty
sight. The platform was crowded with fruit-sellers
squatting beside baskets in which their golden and
ruddy wares were piled high, glowing in the rich
sunlight.
Burmese stations are an inexhaustible source of interest,
but they are rarely so attractive as Sagaing was that
afternoon, with oranges gleaming between the wide
meshes of the cunningly contrived baskets, and great
piles of green water-melons and rose-apples. At every
station there is a sweeper, in a turban and loin-cloth,
which have presu1nably once been white. He has a large
switch broom and assiduously brushes up the dust into
every one's face ; the intention is laudable but the
practice disagreeable. The people travel extensively ;
there is constantly a crowd on the platform, and how
they chatter, a rookery is nothing to it, a "rookery" of
magpies would be the only equivalent anywhere near.
At one place some one spilt a basket of green tomatoes
down beside the train on the line, and the yelling and
rushing and gabbling were such that I thought some one
had at least cut a hand off inadvertently. The food
sellers too made themselves heard abundantly; they went
up and down carrying large pannier baskets swung on
a bamboo, like a gigantic pair of scales. These were
filled with a sickening mixture that made one's stomach
turn even to look at it. Bad fish, yellow cakes, cigars,
TO THE FAR NORTH 151
a kind of dried mush, and whole peas welded into rings
and circles.
The trains do their best to act in keeping with their
stations, it would not do to have a straightforward dulJ
kind of train in such a scene as that. Sometimes they
start outquite hopefullyafterwaiting onlya comparatively
short time at any platform, then before they are well clear
of it stop again and settle down ; at last they take courage
and dawdle along to the next station, perhaps about five
miles off, here they apparently take root. At length
the guard waves first the green flag and then the red one
and then both together, but finding the engine-driver
takes no notice, he pretends he was only flicking the
flies away and resumes his conversation with the station
master. Suddenly, when he has forgotten all about it,
the train goes off, scattering all the pariah dogs, and
hens, and goats, and people who have been strolling
about among the wheels. There is a running and jump
ing on to the foot-boards, and for the next three or four
minutes many a dark face passes your window as its
owner works himself back to his own compartment along
the foot-board. When fairly under way, however, the
trains go a good pace and get over the ground well ;
these are only minor incidents. \?\Then we had left
Sagaing we stopped a long time a little further on, and
though it was still the height of the afternoon, the sky
became overcast and a cold wind see1ned to be blowing
about mysteriously. I noticed it, and thought how
strange a thing it was to happen in this cloudless country,
but presently the sun shone again and I forgot to
speculate on the gloom and unexpected darkness. Not
until a fortnight later did I learn that I had missed
an eclipse of the sun, when I might have seen it by
putting my head out of the carriage window 1 Such is
fate!
We ran on through rather uninteresting country but
as the sun sank I saw a fine panorama unroll before
me.
The line is single, there are no embankments, the
windows run right along the sides of the carriages, so
whatever view there is is seen uninterruptedly and in
great comfort. We passed along by the edge of a vast
mere or marsh just as the sun, three times his apparent
size, was setting. The water turned almost blood
red, and was broken by clumps of bushes and tall reeds,
and peopled by long stringing flights of wild-fowl.
When the sun set, that indescribable warm golden glow
so full of " tone " succeeded, and then darkness dropped
as sharply as when a candle is blown out. On little low
lying spits of land camp-fires sprang up, and I got a
glimpse of natives fishing : over all was the queer sort
of smell of burnt wood which I shall ever associate with
Burma. It seemed to me I was in a dream, for the air was
neither hot nor cold, just the atmosphere of a dream, and
the vastness of the empty plain was eerie, when suddenly
from out the darkness standing on a piece of waste land,
utterly alone, there seemed to spring a great image of
Buddha, pure white, and three or four times life-size. It
was sheltered by a rough thatch roof, supported on poles,
and in front was a long row of little cheap candles
burning brightly and straight in the still air.
At Schwebo we stopped for dinner, and I made the
:,±
FRUl'l-SF.LLERS ,\T S.-\G,\ING

MEl<RY UIII.IJIIUUI)
acquaintance of the only other European in the train,
an elderly man, an engineer, going up to Bha1110, and
beyond over the hills into China, to report on a railway
which might possibly come into being.
Afterwards I slept comfortably in the train as we
hurried on through the night. When I awoke in the
morning the air was as thick with mist as it often is on
a November day in England and everything was dripping
with moisture. However, here you have one certainty,
that it is not going to continue so all day, the sun's fiery
rays will soon send the mist flying. Near N aba, where
we had to change at about seven o'clock, I got my first
glin1pse of real jungle, great feathery clumps of ba1nboo
with little tracks leading between, and huge broad
leaved plants, and thick creepers. At Naba it was
possible to get some tea, and we soon started on the
little branch line that slowly cli1nbed up an immense
height and then dropped down again to the river at
Katha. The rail between Naba and Katha ran through
one of the prettiest parts I had yet seen, and I saw it
well, as there was a kind of cab or platform at the rear
end of the carriage, on which I could stand to watch
the scenery, as we crawled upward at a foot's pace.
There was real jungle on each side, great teak trees,
impenetrable bushes and creepers, and innumerable
n1ighty bamboos. Many of the smaller plants had bright
red leaves and all were glistening in the morning
moisture. Behind, high hills rose to perhaps a thousand
feet, clothed with forest to the very top. 'I'o me the
charm was intensified by the freshness of everything ; it
was so unsullied, so untrodden. When one views a
u
similar bit of scenery at, say, the Scottish lakes, one
knows that people pour over it in their hundreds every
day in the season, and the bloom is gone.
It was quite hot when we arrived at the station where
we were to board the steamer, and she was waiting for
us. Oddly enough, she goes by the name of the ferry
boat, though the whole day and part of the next one is
occupied by her trip up-stream ; they have odd ideas of
ferry-boats in this part. If I had been able to come by
cargo-boat, as intended, all the way from Mandalay I
should have come right past here without changing.
The ferry-boat was quite comfortable, with a small
saloon deck forward, roofed-in and protected by awnings,
and here I and the engineer spent a peaceful day together.
The wide placid river, the blue hills, the endless sand
banks filed past monotonously until we reached a place
called Schwegu, which at once stood out apart from
others. It is on a cliff-like height crowned by palms,
pagodas and choungs. A long flight of wooden steps
leads up to the heights, on the edge of which were
seated, like large parroquets, the most gaudily dressed
people I had yet seen. They rather reminded me of
Swiss peasants in their costumes, for they were wearing
short red skirts and leggings, blue bodices with red
sleeves, and had a broad red band across the breast.
They belonged to the tribe of Palaungs. On their
heads was a kind of hood edged with white, which fell
back so as to form a long cloak behind.
It was at Schwegu also that I saw some Afghans on
the beach, big bearded men, who stood out markedly
amid the little beardless Burmans.
After this we drew near to the entrance of the Middle
Defile; the banks of the river were lined by a rich lush
growth that glowed green-gold as the sun struck it at
an acute angle, then the hills grew higher and closed in
on each side, and a damp woody smell crept out across
the water. Sir J. G. Scott describes the lowest defile
(the one I failed to see, not being able to come all the
way up-strea1n) as being forined simply by "high banks
covered with dense vegetation," and puts, pithily, the
difference between the three defiles thus : "The first
defile may be called pleasing, the second striking, the
thjrd savage"; so I certainly had the best of it in seeing
the two I did.
Huge trees with white stems as straight as telegraph
posts stood out against the dense foliage, and wreaths,
and ropes and shawls of creeper flung themselves fr01n
one to the other. There was a wide clearing as sharp as
a knife-edge down the side of one hill, and for a con
siderable time this puzzled us greatly until my c01npanion
rightly surmised it was the clearing for a new telegraph
wire.
As the hills grew steeper it looked as if we must run
up against a dead end ; but we turned a corner ahnost
at right angles, and saw a towering cliff which dropped
sheer down to the water. It is one of the grandest
sights in the defiles, and as we saw it, black against the
evening sky, we lost nothing in the setting. About a
third of the way up on a mighty rock stands a pagoda,
looking like a child's toy, though, I am told, it is sixty
feet high
The current did not seem swift, it was so very s1nooth,
and we went slowly with the oily swell falling away
almost without a sound ; there were no birds, only the
unearthly silence of falling night. As the shadows grew
darker a weird hoot sounded out suddenly ; it was our
syren to warn rafts ahead that we were coming, for to
meet one of the hundred-foot rafts in such a place
as this at a narrow bend would mean disaster. Just as
we turned a sharp corner two flaring dropping torches
shone out, and drawing nearer to them slowly we saw
two naked figures, like the bronze statues modelled to
hold lamps, standing with outstretched arms at each end
of an enormous raft. Then we were through the defile
and moored for the night, for the river channel is too
dangerous to traverse in the dark. The whole of the
forepart of the deck was awninged in and made a cosy
room. It was absolutely still except for the ceaseless
chattering of the native crew as they foregathered round
a wood fire on the beach.
CHAPTER IX
THE WAY TO CHINA
V\T E were not long in getting to Bhamo the next morn

ing, and so smoothly did the stea1ner start that I never
knew she was moving until I came out of my cabin.
\iVe agreed to have breakfast earlier than usual, and be
fore we had finished we came in sight of the town rising
from the low sandy shore. My companion pointed out
to me the lower landing-place or ghaut where the
steamers are compelled to stop when the river is lowest,
but as it was in fairly good current now we came within
a mile of the town, from which we were separated by an
appalling waste of soft sand like a miniature desert.
There were several flats or great barges moored near,
and as crowds of curious faces, more or less l\1ongolian
in type, peered out of them I realised I had got into the
land of the Chino-Burmans.
We had hardly stopped before a clerk from the
Deputy-Co1nmissioner's office came up to 1ne on board
and said he had been sent by the Deputy-Commissioner,
who was himself away, to look after 1ne and tell 1ne al
I wanted to know. He had procured a stout wooden
cane-seated chair, slung on two bamboos, to convey me
across the wilderness of sand. This was carried by two
sturdy men of the Shan tribe. It was my first sight of
the Shans, the great race which ranks only second to the
Burmans themselyes in the occupation of the country.
They were not very tall, but as strong as bullocks, with
hugely developed swelling muscles standing out on their
red leathery shoulders and arms. They were dressed in
loose blue blouses, very wide short trousers, and folded
turbans of what looked like dark blue serge. To tell
the truth I envied them their job even less than I appre
ciated my own share in the performance, for I am no
feather-weight. The sensation of being hoisted up
shoulder-high had to be endured with some fortitude,
and when they set off at a jog-trot, out of step, and
stumbling in the soft sand, I lost sight of all dignity and
only clutched at equilibrium. Mr. E., the clerk, having
seen that the boy had got a bullock-cart for the things,
followed. And when we finally reached firm ground he
was there, panting, beside me. The ride was costly, for
I had to give the men a rupee; but all experience,
especially that of a painful kind, is apt to be so. Mr.
E. and I then entered a gharry, and he told me that I
should have to go to the dak bungalow, as the railway
party, of which my friend the engineer was the chief,
had arrived before him and were already occupying the
circuit house. As it turned out, this arrangement was
what I should have chosen, for the verandah of the dak
bungalow commands a view in its way as interesting as
that of the Mandalay circuit house.
Bhamo was the Mecca of my pilgrimage. Only a
short distance off over the blue hills lies the Chinese
border, and the weird races that pour in from the northern
THE WAY TO CHINA 159
hills are much more individual and characteristic than
those one sees in the south. The few tourists who do
extend their trip in the country as far as Bhamo nearly
all come up by steamer and return again the next day
on the same boat, whereby they miss a great deal. It
is true that Bha1no is a dead-end for those who have not
private facilities, for the Flotilla Company's steamers do
not go above it; but I should imagine that one could
pleasantly fill a week in Bhaino itself. Anyway, I was
to be one of the lucky ones, for a letter from head
quarters had requested the Deputy-Commissioner at
Bhamo to leave the Government launch at my disposal
when I required it, and I had wired a few days before
to tell him the date of my coming. He was away at
Myitkhyina, far northward, from whence he would return
in a borrowed launch, having left the little Indaw for me
as requested. Yet I could not start away the next day,
as for two days a 1nonth the Upper Defile is closed to
allow of the passage of the trunks and logs belonging to
the forest firn1 of Steel Brothers, and no traffic can go up.
As it happened, the day of my arrival and the morrow
were these days. However, that did not matter, for I
imagined I should find a1nple entertain1nent in Bha1no
itself on Thursday, to say nothing of the necessity of
getting some stores, as I understood there was practically
nothing at all on the launch.
The dak bungalow looked rather dark and 1nosquitoey
when we arrived at it, as it stands in the shade of a
clu1np of heavily foliaged mango-trees, but this i1npres
sion soon faded in view of the intense interest of the
prospect from the verandah. Mr. E. left 1ne, promising
to come again and take me to see anything I
wanted.
The bungalow is small, standing on legs, with an
exterior staircase leading straight on to the verandah,
which is also the common dining-room. Luckily when
I arrived I had the whole place to myself. Later I
managed to get a photo of this verandah by means of a
long exposure, but the result hardly gives an impression
of the delightful bareness of the place. The uncovered
floor-boards do not show, my cushion lying on a chair is
transformed into a detail of elegance, and the table
cloth, which was none of the whitest and very coarse,
might be of damask. On to this verandah two bed
rooms, each with its small bath-room behind, open.
Looking out from the verandah I could see a wide
stretch of bare burnt-up ground, broken by a few small
trees and shrubs, and ending in a range of high hills of a
marvellous milk-blue, as different as could be from the
rich, clear dark blue of Scottish hills after rain. This
wide space was crossed by a raised causeway, and as I
sat, lost in dreams, many times in the few following
days, I heard the tinkle of distant mule-bells, and then
a slow heavily laden caravan would steal across the road,
kicking up clouds of dust, amid which trotted the drivers
in huge cartwheel hats and wide white Chinese trousers.
It was "'the road to China," and China lay only some
thirty to forty miles away there in the hills. Or there
broke in upon my silence the slower, more sonorous
sound of an elephant bell, and a mighty elephant with
his mahout on his neck would stride across my picture.
My deck chair was the throne from which a series of real
THI-: l'.\GtJD.\ 1:-.I Till·: �lllll>I.I·: DEFII.E,
IRR.\ \\".\lllJY
VERANDAH OF TH�: OAK BUNGALOW,
BHA�O
"living pictures" were continually to be seen. I was
near other races, other countries, which had hitherto
only been na1nes to 1ne. The smaller details in the
immediate foreground also re1ninded me I was far fr01n
England-the unripe mangoes hanging on the trees, the
squawking of the crows, and the occasional startling
shriek of another bird rese1nbling a jay. Neither he nor
the crows minded the 1nere clapping of hands ; it took a
bodily rush to 1nake them change their quarters. At
first I could not understand the use of a wide-meshed
wire netting that one could pull down over the openings
of the verandah, but experience soon taught 1ne, for
when I left a tin of chocolates on the table one day the
lid ,vas off on my return, and the chocolates, which were
wrapped separately in silver paper, were scattered in
every direction.
The derwan looked an old villain, but was really civil
enough. As he could not speak a word of English, I
had to await the arrival of Chinnasaw1ny with the
luggage before I could communicate n1y lordly wishes
to hi1n. I found his charges were the usual ones, viz.,
eight annas for chota hazri, one rupee eight annas for
breakfast, eight annas for tea, and two rupees for dinner,
with an additional charge of four annas daily for the
sweeper. The tea and toast and ja1n were all a little
inferior to those at Mandalay, but did well enough.
When I had finished, the Deputy Comn1issioner's wife
sent her buggy round to take 1ne for a drive, so that I
gained some idea of the place, which is quite peculiar and
not at all easy to grasp at first. It is intersected in all
directions by curious raised roads, necessary because in
)I
the wet season the intermediate parts become lakes. In
some of the hollows, dry at this season, were well-kept
market gardens attended by Chinamen. There is a fort
where the military live, two good polo grounds, and a
circular drive cut through the jungle, round which we
went. At one place we came to a finger-post, on one
fork of which was written in English, " The way to
China," and my heart gave a great throb to think I was
so near to a country which had always seemed to me as
unattainable as the rnoon ! 'I'here is a little English
outpost in the hills called Sinlon, only to be reached on
horseback-would that time had allowed me to go
there I
The place is unique, and there is much to see. One
of the most striking objects is a pure white bell-pagoda,
which stands out against the blue hills from many points
of view. The colour of the hills as I saw them that after
noon was indeed beyond anything I could have imagined,
and it was pure, not emphasised by any complement.
There it was rising sheer from the low ground, one
glorious sheet of blue that stirred one's heart like a glad
song. In the midst of the town, for town it must be
called, though it is not in the least like one, are a number
of worn and crumbling grey pagodas, and near them the
long neat wooden court-house, with three or four khaki
clad policemen outside as symbols of law and order.
All kinds of religions are represented; there is a bright
new Mohammedan mosque and a very celebrated joss
house ; also a sort of open temple where the ceremony
of initiation into the Buddhist monastic order takes
place.
By the time I returned from the drive the sun had
fallen, and the air felt very cold indeed. I was glad to
draw down the mat blinds provided on the verandah,
and should not at all have minded a fire, but there was
no provision for one. At any rate I was free fro1n
mosquitoes; I had been bothered slightly by the atten
tions of one or two at Mandalay, though I had been
told I should meet with none " up-country " in the cold
weather. However, it was not advisable to do without
mosquito curtains, for there were other things about, as
I found on going into my bedroom soon after eleven. For
on the bare whitewashed walls was an immense spider,
whose outstretched legs, wider in circuit than the palm
of my hand, were striped with yellow. Chinnasawmy
and the derwan had long ago retired to the go-down
near the compound gate or to 1nake festival in the town
with friendly spirits, so if the beast were to be killed I
must do the slaying myself, and that I very much
objected to for several reasons. I knew he was a
tarantula, about whose bite I had heard deadly things,
and I could never have slept in peace until the deed was
done. It took 1ne some time and the heel of a slipper
to accomplish it, for he ran so fast, but I succeeded at
last and threw his crumpled body out of the window.
Only once again did I 1neet with one of his kind, and
that was when I was dressing for dinner one night in
Rangoon and a si1nilar monster ran across 1ny dressing
table. The boy slew him with a rolled-up newspaper,
and we carried him downstairs to hear hi1n pronounced
to be undoubtedly a tarantula.
In the early hours of the morning I awoke trembling
with cold, and getting up, gradually dragged everything
I had on the top of me before I could get warm. The
whole world was wreathed in mist, and even at eight
o'clock the ground was still white with frost, real hoar
frost clinging to every blade and twig.
I think it was this morning that poor Chinnasawmy
came to me and said he was cold. I re1ninded him he
had bought a long coat, and he answered, ".Coat only
come to here, Missie," marking off a place about his
knees. "Legs is cold ! "
I looked hopelessly at the thin white garment he
wore swathed around his legs, and asked, "But what
can you wear ? "
"Trouseys, Missie," he said hopefully.
"I'm not going to buy you trousers," said I, "so
you need not think it."
"Drawerses, Missie."
"Well," I said doubtfully, "you may buy a pair of
woven drawers if you like; I'll give you three rupees,
and anything over you must pay yourself."
He could not get them, however, in Bhamo, so had
to wait. till he returned to Mandalay, where he bought
them at a kind of general store, half Europeanised,
where one could get most things or substitutes for
them, and he proudly laid them on the seat of the gharry
for me to see, with the bill for three rupees eight annas.
It is not necessary in Bhamo to be out too early, for
the sun is not unbearable all day at this time of the
year; thus it was comparatively late when Mr. E.
called for me and we went for a walk round the town.
We visited the market-place first, and here I saw such
i,,:_\( 111:,; 11·11,1 . l'i
. .\:..;I> ';II\ I.
ON 'l'IIE IIEIGl-l'l'S BY TIIE HIVER, SCI-!WEGtJ
a bewildering crowd of strange peoples and strange
costumes that the impression is still all blurred. Mon
golian faces met one at every turn ; it seemed to me
that Chinese blood was far more in evidence than
Burmese.
The most notable and striking people were the Shans,
fair and ruddy of face, small and sturdy of stature; 1nen
and wmnen alike were wearing the dark blue tunic and
short skirts or very full trousers, which 1nake such a
convenient working dress. Some had blue turbans and
some enormous cart-wheel pith hats.
They struck me as having more backbone and more
go in the1n than the Burmans, but they have not their
essential aristocracy; they look what they are, hewers of
wood and drawers of water. Their cheery, good
tempered faces showed that their lives agreed with
them. Behind, at a little distance, the men reminded
me 1nost oddly of the Highlanders of Scotland,
the blue trousers are so short and full that they
fall like a kilt, the bare knees are shown above the
leggings which take the place of stockings, the blu�
cloth turban does duty for a Glengarry even to the
little hump in the middle, which has an absurd rese1n
blance to the button, and there is a kind of pouch like a
sporran. The Kachins resembled the Shans in son1e
ways, but were not all dressed alike. Some of the
wmnen had a most odd arrange1nent of coils and coils
of cane round their 1niddles which 1nade the1n look like
tubs, and the same cane rattans ·were wound around
each knee. Huge earrings of silver and chains of every
sort of bead were to be seen everywhere. Silver seemed
to be the predominant metal. This is different from
the Burmese cust01n, which is to give only the children
silver ornaments and themselves to wear gold. There
were numbers of true Chinamen about, mostly dressed
in the lovely sky blue which makes such a refreshing
break in the colour-scheme. One poor little Chinese
woman was hobbling about on terribly deformed feet,
until I had actually seen her I could not believe in any
thing so repulsive and hideous. I had always expected
to see the feet compressed indeed, but larger and not so
gruesomely distorted. The people were squatting in
rows on the ground beside their wares, mostly contained
in great baskets, and they looked at me with interest
but without undue curiosity.
I noticed a surprising number of cases of goitre,
which is odd, as these people, like the Swiss among
whom it is most prevalent, live in the hills, but in their
case it can hardly be from the drinking of snow water,
which is said to be the cause of the disease in Switzer
land. Another unpleasant detail is the number of teeth
stained and blackened with kutch, which is as universally
chewed up here as betel-nut further south. Mr. E.
explained to me the various edibles that were for sale ;
a great dish of saffron, the colour of poongyis' robes,
was for curry; a mass of dirty-looking sand was flour
and peppercorns ground together ; and most common
and most sickening of all was the national food n'gape
(pronounced nappy). I saw enough of this in Bhamo and
smelt enough of it to make me remember it all my life.
Piled on the plank floors of the living rooms, open to the
street, in one house after another, I saw heaps of the
decaying fish which are left until they attain that state
of decomposition which n1akes them most toothsome to
the strong-tasting Burn1an. In the meantime dust and
sand, to say nothing of microbes, must have penetrated
every pore of the filthy 1nass, which is then pounded up
and used for food. In the market this delicacy, with
others, was dealt out on broad bits of plantain leaf
which served equally for a plate or a wrapping.
Besides the local foods there were great baskets of
walnuts, nuts, dried figs and many other things. ..After
seeing the market we went on to the joss-house. It is
surrounded by a high wall and contains innumerable
courts, not set square to each other, but opening at
various angles, probably for the greater show of
mystery. In one court near the entrance there is a
theatre, not with the stage, as one might innocently
suppose, on the ordinary level, but high up on the flat
place above the entrance, so that only the people sitting
in the galleries round the court could see anything
going on, those in the well of the court could see
nothing. Everywhere was the distinctive carving and
painting of the Chinese, but the place looked worn and
poor, not well kept and bright. The building is of
considerable antiquity in parts. All the roofs had the
characteristic round Chinese tiles running down in
ridges. In one place a shrine, so sacred as to be shut
off by folding doors, had spread before it an old
carpet which had belonged to the Irrawaddy Flotilla
Company, whose name was still prmninently woven in it!
On each side was a hideous devil, before which burnt a
bowl of saffron. Biscuit boxes with tapers stuck in
them were placed before other figures, which, life-sized
and gilt, made a kind of frieze. we saw many slow,
dull-looking Chinamen lolling about in the courts, but
no one seemed to resent our presence there in any way.
We afterwards walked through China Street; here
there were good shops, all very neat and clean. The
Chinamen had shrewd, clever faces, and in their blue
clothes and funny little caps with a red button on the
top were decidedly attractive. In common with many
people who know nothing about them, I had always
had rather a prejudice against the Chinese, a prejudice
which the specimens of the race I saw in Burma did
much to remove. The intelligence, capability and self
respect written on their faces, and the shrewd twinkle of
humour in their narrow eyes impressed me most favour
ably. They were also much taller and stronger physi
cally than I had expected, more manly altogether; and
the opinion of those who deal with them is that, though
they will try to get the best of you, as is but natural,
yet if they make an agreement they stick to it honour
ably. Mr. E. asked one Chinaman whom he knew if
I might go into his house; permission was readily granted
and we passed down a narrow kind of alley or entrance
to a very small room, open in the front, but otherwise
unlighted, filled with costly furniture; lacquer and
gilding and inlaid work met my eyes everywhere; the
whole was the exact antithesis of the large bare
unfurnished rooms of the wealthy Burmese. The
owner pointed with pride to numbers of strips of red
paper suspended on strings from the ceiling as if they
were put there to dry, and Mr. E. explained that these
60
THE '' INLJAW" (p. 172)

fil
J,'JSHERME1>;
'THE WAY TO CHINA 169
were all greetings from his friends at the Chinese New
Year, which begins in April when the sun enters Aries.
The old man was evidently very proud of them, for he
smiled with a pleased expression at my evident astonish
ment. Only second to his " greetings " did he value
his goldfish, which were in a bowl outside the door; I
thought him pleasant and civil, but nevertheless the
feeling of racial difference is far wider and deeper
between English and Chinese than between English
and Burmese.
There is one shop by way of being a store in Bhamo,
and here I went to get what I should need for the trip
up the river. There was nothing op the launch except
a couple of benches and a wooden table; but, as it
would have been absurd to buy such things as crockery
for two days' use, I was told that I could borrow most
of what I required from the dak bungalo,v, and need
only get food, oil for the lamp, and other goods of a
perishable kind at the store. I had given the boy
orders to go to the bazaar and buy what I should need
in the way of eatables for two days, and he brought 1ne
a list with such strange items as " ghi " in it. He
seemed to know very well what quantities to get and
was most helpful. Though his list included chickens,
rice, beef, bread, vegetables, &c., it only amounted to
a few rupees in all. Jam, biscuits, soda water, knives
and forks, and smaller things, to say nothing of a tweed
cap for cmnfortable wear, I managed to procure at the
store, but the process was prolonged. The only 1nan
who knew where anything was or what the price of
anything happened to be was the owner, and he did
y
not seem greatly interested; besides, as while I was
there my friend the engineer with one or two of his
assistants was trying to obtain supplies for a journey
which might extend over a couple of months, my
small purchases fell into the background. There were
two assiduous natives who would have been willing
enough to get me anything they could, but as they
had not the faintest idea what I wanted, and if they
had, would not have known whether they had it, or
where to have found it, we did not get on very fast. I
managed to buy two enamel plates that I thought
might be useful ; these were afterwards the glory and
delight of Chinnasawmy's life, he looked on them with
covetous eyes, and at last one day managed to break
through the desperate reserve of a native, to ask if I
intended to take them back to England. When I told
him no, I should leave them as a legacy for him, his
solemn face became quite radiant, and he said the word
"'Thanks," very unusual for a native. 'To return to the
store : I found the only way was to hunt for oneself in
the hope of finding anything likely, and managed thus
to rummage out one or two items, and, ordering the
medley to be sent up, I retired.
I had a pleasant surprise while in Bhamo in coming
across a lady I had met in Rangoon, and she called on me
that same afternoon and carried me off to tea; when you
have lived even for a short time on the ever-same toast
with the smoky taste, English bread and butter and
home-made cakes are a treat. 'The garden was full of
flowers, roses and violets, and great sprays of waxy
orchids, but it is unfortunate that English flowers seem
THE WAY 'l'O CHINA 171
to lose their smell out here; the roses have rather a
sickly scent, and are generally of the pale pink or white
variety, one rarely sees a deep rich-coloured rose. Yet
with many difficulties and drawbacks it is wonderful
how char1ning and home-like some people manage to
make their bungalows. After tea we drove round the
circular drive and I went home, made happy by the loan
of a mattress to soften the benches on the launch,
benches with which my friend Mrs. A. was well
acquainted I
CHAPTER X
THE UPPER DEFILE
LIGHT swathes of mist were still hanging over the wide

expanse of soft sand at eight o'clock the next morning
when a slow bullock-cart ploughed its way down to the
river. The native driver, wrapped in a bath-towel,
crouched shivering in a heap on the pole between his
beasts, and prodded first one broad back and then the
other with cries of " Hoo ! hoo ! " as they lumbered
along. In the bullock-cart I sat on a rolled-up mattress
with all my worldly impedimenta around me, including
a lamp, crockery, a large coolie basket containing
potatoes and various other things, and three skinny
little live chickens tied by the legs. Their cramped
position and lack of plumpness made me so unhappy
that I stipulated that those intended for the n10rrow
should at least be fed during the day. Trudging
after me, ankle-deep in sand, came Chinnasawmy
with a bottle of oil in one hand and an enamel basin,
my sole washing-stand crockery, in the other.
The little launch Indaw was waiting when I reached
the river, and as I walked up the plank the serang, with his
silver chain of office around his neck, salaamed humbly. I
went forward and found a wee deck space just enoug_h to
THE UPPER DEFILE 173
hold the deck-chair Mr. E. had lent me close beside
the wheel ; then the boy came flying wildly to me with
great anxiety on his countenance : "Missie, no cooking
pots 1 " Now the Deputy Commissioner's wife, who
had kindly offered to lend me her cooking-pots, had
told me she had sent them do,vn the night before and
that they had been placed on board. I told Chinna to
look again to make sure that there was no mistake, but
further search confirmed the fact that they were missing.
Several days afterwards when I was returning on the
"ferry" steamer a soiled bit of paper with my name on
it and nothing else was handed to me, and after puzzling
over it for long I solved the mystery, jumping to the
correct conclusion that the cooking-pots had been put
on the "ferry " steamer instead of the launch by the
coolie who had brought them down. The boy had to
hurry back to borrow the pots from the dak bungalow,
and I sat meantime and surveyed the cold waste of
water while the serang fretted, for if we wished to get
through the dangers of the defile before nightfall we
should have been off as soon as the 1nist lifted. In
about forty minutes Chinnasawmy returned trium
phantly, and immediately afterwards we got under way.
The morning was very grey indeed and the sky
covered with clouds. Long, low-lying sandbanks were
all the scenery at present available, and I was thankful
for my big fur coat. ,ve skirted close in by the shore
at first, along banks covered with coarse elephant grass,
and passed huge half-submerged rafts of logs, 1nostly
with funny little huts in the middle, in which the natives
who went down the river lived. Over one, hundreds and
hundreds of crows were wheeling and screaming with a
horrible persistence, and at last out of the thatch hut
rushed a very wild-looking man with a stick and beat
at them in impotent fury. I wondered what lay hidden
beneath that thatch ! Along the shore at intervals were
curved bamboos bent down over the water and con
nected with a kind of triangular arrangement. I knew
they were for fishing, but could not understand how
they worked. Here and there we passed odd high
prowed boats, whose owners gathered to stare at us. I
could always judge from the amount of attention I
received whether white people were rarities or not
in any particular district. The hills in front were
enwrapped in clouds almost to the peaks, which stood
out above like sharp detached islands. I asked the boy
to inquire of the serang if it might remain grey all day
or if the sun always came out, and was assured, com
fortingly, that the sun always came out, an assertion
that unfortunately failed of justification. At eleven
o'clock I had breakfast; it was the first time I had been
at the mercy of the boy's cooking and I found it ad
mirable-a poached egg, a nice little bit of beef done
up with all sorts of savoury vegetables, and curried
chicken.
I could not read or write at all as the hours sped by,
everything was too fascinating and novel. I sat most of
the time within a few inches of the man at the wheel,
near whom the serang sj;ood. He was continually on
the watch, for the sandbanks change and shift with
alarming rapidity, and it needs long acquaintance with
the river to avoid danger; sometimes at the word of
command the wheel was swung almost round at the
last minute to avoid a shoal, and sounding went on per
petually in primitive fashion with ba1nboos. I had
plenty of time to admire the dignity of the serang in
his blue linen costume and little round cap. His
trousers were made on the opposite principle to a
costermonger's, baggy at the knee and so tight at the
ankle the mystery was how ever he got into them.
Though neither he nor any one else of the native crew
spoke any English, yet oddly enough the words of com
mand about the steering were given in English.
By twelve o'clock we were fairly in the defile, the
longest and most beautiful of the three. In some ways
the scenery reminded me of Scotland, and it was only
the nearer views, when the differences in foliage could
be noted, that destroyed the iJlusion. Great wooded
hills rose in all directions, and the feathery trees grew
right down to the water's edge, with here and there
breaks and little bays of glistening white sand. The
channel was extremely tortuous, with headlands pro
jecting into it from both sides, and folding softly into
one another in perspective. The chief feature in the
forest were the masses of young bamboos, which grew
like tree-ferns, or gigantic ostrich feathers, with great
curling fronds ; they were bright yellow in colour, so
that every now and again one had the illusion of a
patch of sunlight to break the monotony of the grey
day. They covered the hill-sides thickly, and seen
against the misty distant blue and the nearer dark
masses of evergreens were very charming. I am told
that in the rainy season the place is ablaze with
begonias, but when I was there no flowers were to be
seen. As we progressed we came upon great masses of
limestone rock all over the channel ; sometimes it looked
as though they completely barred our course, and in
one place we seemed to be running flat up against a
precipice of grey crag only to turn abruptly at right
angles at the last minute. These rocks took various
shapes, and it was not difficult to imagine recumbent
elephants and crouching tigers and grinning human
faces among them. The water was so clear and smooth
that every line was reflected, and all the rocks were
doubled. Yet the current was very swift, for above the
defile the river is half a mile wide, while in many places
here it was certainly not more than fifty yards, even
counting the smaller channels into which it was
broken up.
Sometimes when there was no sign at all of human
dwellings, even of the roughest sort, I caught a move
ment behind a stone, and saw a wee brown face watching
me with bright eyes, or a little brown imp like a monkey
would spring across the steep sandy bank and run along,
keeping level with the launch to see this strange new
thing. Once or twice odd creatures, who might have
been either men or women, with lank black hair flowing
wildly, skipped and leaped along the rough stones, and as
I was wearing a man's tweed cap and a big overcoat
they must have been as much puzzled about my sex as
I was about theirs. The dug-out canoes were to be seen
pretty frequently. These boats are really worth a good
deal, rough-looking as they are, for they must all be in
one piece, and the tree that furnishes forth length and
"'
v<
\\'.\ITJ;\C; FOR TIIE STE.\�IER ,\T

111< >I l.\ H. BEI.U\r Hl-1.\�IU
63
THI·: t.:l'l'ER DEFILE, IRJL·\\L\DI Y

girth enough is a fine one. Such a tree is valuable, and
permission has to be obtained before it can be cut down,
It costs money. The hollowing out is also a consider
able affair. \7Vhenever possible these wild people are
subjected to a hut tax, but very little is yet known of
them. One has only to read such a book as Sir J. G.
Scott's Burma, a Handboo/..·, to find out how much
there is still to learn. In one place he says :
" The H pon are a small community in the hills along
the Irrawaddy near and below Sinbo. In speech they
might be either Burmese or Shan. They have long been
isolated in the hills along the upper defile, which offered
no attractions to anybody. They are a kind of lees or
scum of the neighbourhood, and possibly were in the
beginning refugees from justice or from tyranny." I
like to think some of these odd wild animal-like creatures
I saw were Hpon.
I found that the serang was aiming at a small place
called Sinbo, but I began to doubt if we should make it,
our progress was so slow. I had tea about five. It was
still grey, grey all day, the one completely grey day I
had in Burma, and this seemed a pity, for though it was
sunny when I returned the defile is not seen nearly so well
coming down; besides, the launch goes much faster, so
as to leave less time for impressions; therefore my
memory of this wonderful bit of scenery will always be
as a clear photograph without colour.
At last we were through the defile, and coming into
a wide stretch of shallow water ahnost immediately ran
into a sandbank with a swish, a soft lift, and a bump as
on a feather pillow. We were not the only people in
z
difficulties, for away across the wide water I saw a boat
of considerable size, out of which the native owners
had stepped into the water in hope of shoving it along.
In the midst of such an expanse, a veritable sea, it wa
curious to notice that the water did not reach much
above their ankles.
,,re, for our part, shoved off backwards, and executing
a wild semicircular movement made a rush at the channel
nearer in shore, only to land again with the lift and soft
bump with which I was becoming familiar. This time
it was more difficult to get off, but we managed at last,
and tried again the third time to get through. After
exciting sounding on both sides we stopped just short of
another undesired landing. The serang called a council
of his subordinates, and they all gave their opinions with
much freedom and volubility at one and the same time,
and I was only prevented from adding mine to the
number by my inadequate knowledge of the language.
After another try we negotiated this dangerous place,
and went merrily for a hundred yards, then again we
landed plump and square on a bank, with a thud which
made the launch reel. It was a curious situation-to be
stuck here under a saffron sky, the pale reflection of a
sulky sun, amid a grey waste of shallow water, away,
around, behind and before. We were stopped for an
age this time, and I really thought the serang was
going to cry, he looking so despairing ; I longed to tell
him to " cheer up." The line of trees on the further
shore was quite black ere we finally crawled over the
bar into safety. Then there was more anxiety ; Sinbo
was some way ahead, navigation was impossible in the
dark. and it was dark, with only the pale crescent of
a watery moon to 1nock us. There was much pole
sounding, and a very cautious advance, until at length a
light appeared, low down on the water, and another
considerably further on. This must be Sinbo, I thought,
for two lights hereabouts are quite sufficieut indication
of a village. We finally drew in to the bank, and the
nose of the boat was run up against the mud. Then
the boy came to infonn me we were going to stop there
for the night, and that the further light-the other had
disappeared--probably indicated the launch the Deputy
Commissioner was on, for it was quite likely he was in
the neighbourhood. I had letters and stores for hi1n,
and I thought it was a pity we had not worked up near
to hi1n, but I reflected if we could see his light he could
see ours, and it was easier for hi1n to come down
streain than for us to go up. So I told Chinnasawmy
to get on with his cooking, while I cleaned 1nyself up
as well as circu1nstances permitted. It was certainly
very very still, not a sound on any side. The little cabin
looked cosy with the lainp on the wooden table, and I
enjoyed my dinner. Whilst I was in the middle of it
a dark face appeared at the window, and a black hand
thrust a telegram at me; astonished was I to read 1ny
own name thereon ! It was a curious chance. Some
one had wired to me care of the Deputy C01n1nissioner,
and Mr. E. from his office, being the only man who
knew 1ny whereabouts, had wired on to Sinbo. The
natives are very clever at tracking out strangers, and
one had come down to the river-side, and handed it to
the only European probably within 1nany miles.
Later, when I had finished, the table was moved to
one side, the two benches put together, and my bed
made ready. I cannot say it was comfortable. It is in
the arch of the ribs that it catches you about four
o'clock in the morning, when you are lying on some
thing very hard. Moreover, I found the place stuffy,
for I felt compelled to close the shutters of the cabin
lest pryers should look in. It was a curious experience,
and enough to keep one awake, to feel one was quite alone
with natives, and to hear them grunting and making
interjections and conversation within a few inches of
one's head. There was a good deal of settling down,
and gargling, and mouth-washing, but by nine they were
all quiet, though during the night I was awakened
several times by a grunt or snore so near to my head
that I started until I remembered there was a plank
about half an inch thick between us.
Next morning there was a dense white mist, but it
cleared off, and the effect as it rolled up in what seemed
gigantic wisps of fleecy cotton wool was very f:ine. The
other launch, from which the light had come, had
vanished, gone on up stream ; it probably belonged to
some forest official, and the Deputy Commissioner was
not on board. As I had been asked to give his 1nail
into his own hands, I began to wonder how I was going
to fulfil the trust if he should not appear. So I climbed
up the heights to the village of Sinbo, to send off a wire
asking for instructions. The serang went with me to
show me the way. It was one of the quietest little
places I ever came across. There were some ruined
pagodas as usual ; several men, dressed only in very
6-l:
l!IGH STl<lcC:T, S1NR0

(j.�
:1/. /. Rin.�luun
A REO-E\'ED LEOGkYPH
small loin-cloths, were sawing wood in a kind of primitive
sawing-pit, and a few goats and chickens strolled about,
but otherwise there was no sign of life. The little huts
were thatched untidily with split bamboo, and each was
in its own enclosure with, in 111ost cases, its own papya
tree growing alongside. But there were many trees,
and the broad openings between the houses were little
trodden, and green instead of dusty, so it was not an
unpleasant place. v\Te found the telegraph-office at the
far end, in charge of a very slovenly but good-humoured
babu, who not only sent a wire from me to Mr. E.
asking what I should do if the Deputy Commissioner
did not appear, but wired on his own account to his
colleague at l\lyitkhyina to inquire when the D.C.
left there and what launch he was on. When he
received a reply he informed me that the Deputy C0111-
missioner would probably arrive at Sinbo about midday,
and added a long explanation in very Babu-ish English
to the effect that he had reckoned it up so because the
Deputy Commissioner was on a certain launch ; if he
had been on another one, also named, he would have
taken such and such a time. ,vhen I arrived at the
gist of it I praised his marvellous gifts of observation
and departed.
'The day turned out gloriously hot, and I came up to the
village again later with Chinnasaw111y and the camera.
The place was more alive this time, and I got s0111e
snapshots of children, and a smiling and pleasant
woman, with whom, through the interpreter, I carried
on som.e sort of conversation. The boy told me that
the serang said if we did not leave at midday we could
not get back to Bhamo at all that day, as we would not
be through the defile before nightfall, and I presently
had a reply to my wire telling me to leave the mails
with the head-man of the village, and return when I
liked. So I sent two of the crew up with the big box,
and gave the order to get up steam. We had cast loose
and were just off, when one of the natives rushed
excitedly up to me, and pointed to a launch rounding
the low sand-bank ahead. It was evidently the Deputy
Commissioner I So we waited, and presently a launch
considerably bigger than the Indaw came alongside, and
two sunburnt men in topees, and the delightfully un
conventional attire of jungle travel, greeted me, and we
all made friends at once. My things were transferred
to the larger launch, and the Deputy Commissioner's
mail was fetched back from the village, while he and I
went up to wire to Bhamo to ask if the defile was clear.
He told me this was necessary, as two launches may not
meet in it. Hearing that it was we were soon off.
A more delightful afternoon I have seldom spent.
Here, where a stranger is a comparative rarity, there is
an absence of stiffness and formality which delights the
heart of a man from England. The worst of it is that
it grows to be a habit, and one is inclined after travelling
to speak easily to most people, only to be met in some
cases with a cold rebuff. We had tea early and ate
each other's jam and told stories and laughed, as
we raced down through the glorious scenery amid the
great grey rocks, now all illuminated with the sunlight.
The two men-the other was a P.W.D. official
pointed out to me much that had escaped my ignorant
ye. I saw the great gaudily coloured toucans, with
their enormous bills, flying from tree to tree. I 1nade
cquaintance with the diver birds and noted their long
. naky necks ; discriminated between the two kinds of
kingfishers, one very like our own, the other large and
black and white, and had the principle of the bamboo
fishing-rods explained to me. The time went all too
,;v
fast; it was one of those golden afternoons that come
but seldom in life. e arrived at Bhamo about six,
and I resolved to stay the next day, Sunday, there, as I
had still much to see, and to go on by the "ferry-boat"
on Monday. This necessitated going on board on
Sunday night, for the boat starts as soon as the 1nist
lifts in the morning.
I found that M. Davera, the Frenchman who has
been in charge of the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company's
arrangements at Bhamo for many many years, had
courteously left for me at the dak bungalow a huge
bouquet of roses and a delightful packet of fragrant
mimosa blossoms like little balls of fluff: wrapped up in a
plantain leaf. This very charming form of courtesy is
frequently met with in Burma.
Next day early I had a visit from a box-wallah, a
clever man from whom I bought a certain amount of
silver. The manner of buying adds greatly to the
pleasure of the transaction; the silver article is balanced
against its weight in rupees, and so much is added to
every rupee for workmanship. This man asked eight
annas a rupee for Burmese work, and four annas a rupee
for Indian work. I found afterwards that this was not
extravagant, as a rupee for a rupee is not an uncommon
allowance, though it depends on the fineness of the work.
We had a pleasant morning's easy bargaining, and I
got my silver quite reasonably, for when, by his method
he made the article come to twenty-two rupees, I gave
him twenty, knowing full well he would not be a loser
by anything he accepted. Among his wares were pretty
chains of coloured stones with a gleam in them, for these
he asked eight rupees, which I declared was far too much,
and when I had quite finished buying the silver articles,
he proudly produced a packet of letters which he told me
all said " honest man," and drew from them one much
worn stating that he was a good sportsman, that he
tossed fair, and if you won you got his goods at a
reasonable rate, a rather qualified statement, and as I
read it he cried : " Toss Mem-sahib, toss for the chain ! "
I laughed.
"Toss five rupees or eight."
" All right my friend," said I. "But I do the
tossing ! "
Thinking I was very knowing, I took care to select a
rupee that had not two heads or two tails, and spinning
it myself won, so I paid him five rupees for the chain.
Then he cried once more, "Toss J.\,lem-sahib, toss for
little silver chain, toss one rupee or three."
This chain he had previously offered at two rupees
eight annas. I assented, and once more won. So I
stopped, and as I would not toss again, he said, showing
all his white teeth in a grin," Mem-sahib in luck, Mem
sahib done me."
" I'm quite sure, nevertheless, it's you who have done
me, " sa1"d I.
ML.', llF TIii·: �fll,SOS Tl<1 81·. Fli<>.\f
THE YL·.-.;:-,;,\:-,; \'.\I.I.I·:\'
67
POLICf�Ml':N AT TIFFIN, NAWNGHKIIIO

THE UPPER DEFILE ]85
The sequel to the tale came later. ,¥hen I was in
Maymyo a card with the same 1nan's naine on it was
handed to 1ne, I went down to see him and found not
him but his brother. He had the same chains with
him, and I asked the price, "Three rupees," said
he!
The sa1ne afternoon in Bhamo I was in 1ny bedroom,
when I heard some one striding about on the verandah
in heavy boots, and came out to find a sunburnt ruddy
Frenchman dressed in corduroys. As I had my tea he
told 1ne he had been travelling in China for eighteen
months buying musk for one of the largest and best
known of the French scent firins. His mules were
following him in and ·would be here presently. He had
collected 150,000 rupees worth of musk in tin boxes.
His sense of smell was highly developed ; he said he had
smelt the bundle of mimosa 1\1. Davera had given me
half across the co1npound. He was going to Abyssinia
next to get civet cat, and when I exclai1ned at the idea
of that being a perfume, he told me that, though it is
not beautiful in itself, it brings out the perfume of aL
other scents. Of all ingredients, however, ainbergris,
that strange product or secretion of whales, is the most
expensive, literally worth its weight in gold ; it has of
itself only a very faint odour, but gives to perfmnes
that golden colour so much esteemed, and the slight
oiliness considered essential. l\1onsieur was very talka
tive, and when I heard he was putting up at the dak
bungalow that night I was not sorry I myself was going
on board. Soon after there arrived his pony and convoy
of mules, jingling into the compound, in charge of their
2.A
strange, wild-looking drivers, men of the Mossos tribe
from the Yunnan valley. Though the light was
darkening, I took what photos I could as they unloaded
the mules, who immediately rolled delightedly in the
dust to ease their sore and weary backs.
CHAPTER XI
A TIGER SCARE
THE next scene finds me far from Bhamo. I had come

down the way I had gone up, by steamer and rail to
Mandalay, stayed one night at the dak bungalow there
as the circuit house was full, and caught the train the
next day to Maymyo, lying up on the Shan plateau to
the east. The journey between Mandalay and l\1aymyo
is not long, and for the first part quite level. The line
runs by the outskirts of the town, giving an opportunity
for good views of the golden spire of the Arakan pagoda,
and passes Myohaung Junction, which now seemed like
an old friend so often had I been through it; after this
it branches off from the Amarapura line, going straight
to the foot of the towering hills that border the Shan
plateau and form so conspicuous a feature from
Mandalay. These rise to a height of four thousand
feet above sea level. Arrived at the foot of them I
wondered what the train was going to do, as the face of
the hill was as the face of a cliff, but there was no doubt
or hesitation, no creeping through some gently ascend
ing valley, not a bit of it. We went sheer up in
reversing zigzags, and, as the engine was a kind of
Siamese twin, like two engines back to back, it started
188 A BACHELOR GIRL. IN BURMA
off gaily in the new direction at each angle without the
least difficulty.
Higher and higher we rose, looking down on the
sections of the line up which we had come, and the
immense plain spread out before us wider and wider,
flat country stretching to seeming infinity of distance.
Then there came heavy rock cuttings, and we lost sight
of the plain, but in compensation could soon peep over
the other side of the ridge, for we were nearing tne
summit. Tall straw-coloured grass grew abundantly
near the line and the jungle growth was thick. There
were the great white convolvuluses with crimson centres
climbing over everything, also smaller ones bright
mauve in colour. Very common was a large free
growing shrub, covered all over with velvety flowers,
not unlike almond blossoms, but the colour of lilac.
The quickly sinking sun caught the hills at all angles
and brought out as startling patches of colour the large
blood-red leaves appearing amid the green foliage.
Then we ran along the heights with huge tree-covered
valleys rolling away on the far side.
I had not started till midday, and it was dark and
late when I arrived at Maymyo, which is entirely a
modern military hill-station sprung up in the last few
years. I was met at the station by the very courteous
Assistant Commissioner, who had come provided with
passports for me and the boy, otherwise we might have
had difficulty. Maymyo had been so singularly free
from the plague the authorities wished to keep it so,
and insisted very stringently on this formality. The
circuit house where I stayed, which was much more like
A TIGER SCARE 189
an ordinary English house than those I had so far been
in, had brick walls, and there was actually a wood fire
burning brightly on the open hearth, a welcome sight, for
it was quite cold. I only stayed one night at Maymyo
this time, going on the next day to the celebrated
Gokteik Gorge, which attracts sightseers from all parts
of the world.
As I have said, in Burma it is always wise to notify
the station-master when you want to travel, or there
may be a shortage of accommodation, and there was in
this case, for when I arrived at the station about
midday on the morrow I found him metaphorically
tearing his hair, as no less a party than seven besides
myself were visiting Gokteik, some three hours' journey
away, and this was apparently an overwhehning
number. There were an American and his wife, a
Scotsman and his wife, an old gentle1nan from Ireland,
a Parsee and his wife, and all of them had to be fed at
the dak bungalow at Gokteik which was run by the
railway. ""That we were to feed on heaven alone knew!
When I advised sending up some extras from the
refreshment-room at Maymyo the station-master jumped
at the brilliant idea, and I believe a tin of biscuits
actually went in the van. Having found that the two
first-class carriages were quite inconveniently full I
decided that if the station-master would give 1ne a
second reserved, I should prefer it, though of course I
held first-class tickets. He assented willingly, but this
proceeding did not at all suit Chinnasawrny's ideas of
my dignity. He could not understand my preferring
to be alone in slightly worse circumstances rather than
to travel in a herd in better; in fact, I suppose the
herd in itself would be an additional attraction to a
native. He came and stood in the door of my carriage
and sniffed, and said : "That man make bill short,
Missie."
I said, "What?"
"That man make bill short."
Then I saw what he was driving at, he thought the
railway company should take off something from my fare,
so I laughed and sent him away.
The train goes very slowly, literally little more than a
foot's pace most of the way. The line runs sometimes up
and sometimes down, but the down-grades did not make
up for the slowness of the progress uphill. There were
times when the engine puffed frantically without moving
at all, and I thought we should have to get out and
walk to lighten it, as one might do with a coach in the
Lake Country. However, the surroundings were to me
intensely interesting, and the delay pleasant rather than
not. I saw a great deal that was strange, admiring
especially the wild high-growing jungle grasses, and a
tree covered all over with blossom as bright as scarlet
sealing wax, which I learned afterwards was the wild
cotton. I constantly tried at the stations to get photos
of the characteristic groups awaiting the train, but the
difficulties were almost insuperable. To begin with, the
train invariably pulled up with the platform "into the
sun" so unless I got out and walked to the far side I
could not take a photo at all ; and if I had done that, I
should only have had the backs of intending passengers
for my picture. Then, when the light occasionally did
A TIGER SCARE 191
give me a chance, I could not atte1npt to photo until
we stopped, because of the wild jolting; and by that
time all the groups had broken up, the items were
alongside the carnages, and much too near to
focus.
On the way back I saw a pretty sight, two tiny children
preparing to carry to the train a kerosene tin of water,
filled frmn a ditch, for the refresh1nent of the passengers.
They consulted gravely over the business, and after a
long ti1ne succeeded in filling their tin frmn some
stagnant sli1ny pool. Then the elder one said smnething
to the litt]e one, and he, who had hitherto been dressed
only in his skin and a few bangles and chains, ran into a
tumble-down hut and emerged with a wee cloth,
which he wound round hi1nself; conventional require
ments thus satisfied, they balanced the heavy tin on
a bamboo, and staggered along on their fat little legs
to the train side ; as they passed me I dropped a pice for
them, and the kindly natives, looking out of the third
class near, called to them " Picey, picey." I jumped
out, risking the sudden departure of the train, and photo
graphed them as they stood, with their little faces
wrinkled in shy perplexity.
We arrived at Gokteik somewhere about three in the
afternoon. The station being on the near side of the
gorge, the train does not cross the famous bridge before
arrival; nevertheless there is a good view looking down
on it at the last incline before descending to the station.
\i\Then we stopped, I, being an old traveller, recognised
that there might be a shortage of accommodation, and
wasted no ti1ne, but set off at once up to the dak
19fl A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
bungalow which was about five minutes' walk away.
The Scotch couple did the same and came in first,
followed by me and the gentleman from Ireland. The
event justified the proceeding, for there were two
blocks, one with three first-class sets of rooms, and one
with three second-class sets. By the time Chinna had
procured coolies and brought up the baggage, I was
installed in one of the first-class sets, and my com
panions in the other two. There remained the
Americans, who, I heard afterwards, had been con
siderably annoyed all the way up that things were not
done precisely as they were in America; and they, with
the Parsee couple, had to settle in the second-class
block. But they did not give in without a struggle ;
presently the man went back to the station, and sent
up the station-master, a little babu, who said to me :
"That gentleman he say you travel second-class, you
go second-class 'commodation, he come here."
I called for the tickets, which had not been collected,
and presented them to him; his apologies were abound
ing. I remained in the first-class room.
It is a long way down to the great cave at the foot
of the gorge, and it is best to start at once or darkness
sets in before it can be comfortably reached; not know
ing this I had tea and wrote a letter first before making
the descent, and when I came out I found that the
rest of the party had dispersed. The babu station
master kicking his heels at a loss for a job was the only
person to be seen. When he volunteered to act as
guide I assented, as I had not the smallest idea what to
see or how to see it. The Parsee couple suddenly
TIii'. \\'.\TEl{·<".\RlnERS, \\'ETI\T;'\
fj'.)
Capt. ')'. II. l:nors!.:ill, /.:.A .. If. C.
GOKTE!K GORGE
A TIGER SCARE 19S
appeared and joined in, and the boy asked leave to
come, so this strangely assorted procession started.
The view from the platform where the bungalow
stood was superb. The valley rolled away from our
feet thickly covered with jungle growth sloping down
ward at an angle of about forty-five degrees; it was
spanned at a height of about four hundred feet by
a fairy-like trestle bridge, half a mile in length and
one of the wonders of the world. 'rhis, in its turn,
rested on the roof of a natural cave in the rock below,
and as the cave itself was four hundred feet in height,
the whole height of the bridge, from the river dashing
through the valley, was eight hundred feet. The further
side of the valley rose high above the bridge, an escarp
ment of magnificent cliffs stained red-gold with the
iron that was in them. The railway line, on reaching
the foot of them, slowly crawled up along a shelf or
terrace trending away to the left, and by way of this
shelf it crept on until it reached the shoulder of the
great mass of rock and turned it to continue its tortuous
journey by the same method on the far side.
On each side of the bridge itself there is a parapet
not a foot high, and this is all between the pedestrian
who crosses it on foot, and the stupendous drop below
At intervals on one side are projecting brackets or plat
forms to be used for the introduction of a second line
of rail if it should be required. Standing on these
the sensation is rather like being swung between heaven
and earth. lndeed, it takes a fairly strong head to
cross the bridge at all, as it is at present but little more
than the width of the single line of rail. Any one is
2n
allowed to walk freely across, and I did not hear of any
accidents.
Leaving the actual traversing of the bridge until the
morrow, we descended into the gorge to explore the
cave. Thinking that the babu was a little more
exuberant in his demeanour than was quite becoming,
I sent him on ahead and let the Parsees follow to form
a buffer. The poor little woman was dressed in the
long trailing silk skirts of her native costume, and was
further much embarrassed by a pair of new European
shoes which made her stumble over every pebble, so, as
the descent was very steep, she did not progress very
fast. When we had passed a little way down, we could
stand beneath the bridge and look up at it, gaining in
that way a much better idea of its enormous propor
tions than from above. It was being painted bright
scarlet by Chinamen who hung on, swinging in mid-air,
looking like tiny monkeys. The remaining part of the
way down to the cave after this was much steeper, it
followed little winding paths through thick jungle, from
which a strange miasmic smell arose. The path zigzagged
round and round, and grew darker every minute; quite
suddenly the babu stopped, and said impressively:" Tiger
smell I"
I thought he was probably tired of escorting us and
had invented an excuse to go back, so I said to the boy :
"Is he making humbug, or is it true ? "
"True, missie," Chinna answered, his face growing a
sickly colour; "I smell him too, him smell like inside of
a Rangoon railway carriage."
Well could I imagine that smell I
A TIGER SCARE 195
The Parsees waited no longer, but vanished like
smoke, European shoes and all, and after hesitating one
second the station-master went after them.
I was still sceptical about that tiger, and certainly no
ordinary tiger would have attacked us so long as the
light lasted, but then we were only half way down, and
if I went on it would mean coming up in the dark, so
after reluctantly peering round the next corner and
seeing the sa1ne jungly path running down out of sight
I slowly retreated. Chinnasaw1ny had not run, I will
do him that justice, but his face was a picture of terror.
As I walked back I said to him : " If I had gone on
down to the cave, boy, would you have co1ne with
me?"
He has 1noral courage, if not the other sort, for he
answered in a very small voice, " No, Missie! " Then,
evidently thinking I was angry, he continued in an
explanatory way, "If Missie want go cave, l\1issie get
Burman man, he live in jungle, he not 'fraid, he got great
big dah, if tiger c01ne he slice him." As I still con
tinued unrelenting he ceased. But as we got nearer
and nearer to the upper levels his spirits rose, he hacked
at the tall growing plants with a stick he had seized,
and said suddenly with a great chuckle, "Thein natives,
how they run! "
At this I burst out laughing, and he knew he was
forgiven. Of course no one ever saw that tiger!
Even if he were not very brave Chinna was a good
boy. The dinner the derwan at the dak bungalow gave
us that night was very 1neagre, but I found that
though the others had horrid native-1nade bread mine
196 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BOUMA
was toasted, my butter had been washed, and I had a
drop of fresh 1nilk, not condensed, and none of these
things had I told the boy to get, they were due to his
own forethought. However he had made one mistake, for
he had left my towels at Maymyo, and towels of any
sort were not to be had here for love or money. We
gravely debated the question of the rival merits of my
print dressing-gown and my single sheet to serve the
purpose and decided on the former.
The following morning the valley was filled to the
brim with mist, making it into a level plain; I hoped it
would clear off before the train came in, as I had requi
sitioned a trolley to be sent down from the next station
so that 1 could run across the viaduct before we left.
In the meantime I went down to the station to send oft
some telegrams. The babu, like all his tribe, was rest
less, and it was necessary to stand over him to ensure
anything being done. I was thus engaged, reading out
to him each word of the wire I wanted to send, in a
room about eight feet by four, when a hen fluttered in,
flung herself on the table, and made the appalling noise
hens generally do when they have laid an egg; I chivvied
her out, but back she came. I sent her flying once
more, but she dodged past me and landed upon a pile
of official papers on a shelf, where she crouched down
and defied me. The babu at this looked up at 1ne most
piteously, and said, with pathos: "She want lay egg
verry mooch ; let her I " The telegrams were left to
their fate I
The trolley duly came as the last wreaths of mist
were lifting, and a message was sent up to me telling
CHINNASAWMY AND SHA W0\1E , GOKTEIK
STATION
71
ON THE TJWLIYY
A TIGER SCARE 1�
me I could take two other persons with me; needless to
say it was not the couple fr01n America I chose as my
companions. The gorge seen in the gradual uprising of
the morning mist was even more beautiful than it had
been in the evening. It would have required a Turner
to do it justice. The slow unveiling of the cliffs reveal
ing each moment long sword-gleams of iron-tinged rock
was fascinating. I and the stranger-lady sat in front
beside the brakes1nan; the husband clung on behind,
between two coolies, and we went off down the incline
at a tremendous speed; there was nothing in front; it
was like a race on a glorious motor-car; we simply spun
over the long trestles, and the great crags seemed to race
to meet us, while the clouds rolled up from the more
distant blue hills at the end of the valley. Never have
I done anything more exhilarating! The Scotch lady
grasped my arm in the midst of it all and said, with the
utmost impressiveness: "How many yards of silk did
you get for those petticoats at Mandalay, if I 1nay ask?''
I answered, with equal fervour, " Five; do you think it
was enough? " Verily there are s01ne people to whom
shop windows form the grandest scenery of God's
earth!
On the far side we ran up with diminishing speed
along the shelf of rock, through several tunnels, until
the coolies began to shove and we gained the level.
Then the trolley was reversed and we spun back across
the bridge to the station, where the train soon followed
us in. It was sad to have to leave Gokteik Gorge
without seeing the mysterious cave, but I assuaged
regret by plans for the future: I would come back from
Maymyo the following week when the moon would be
full. I thought this might be feasible, as a lady who
had come over in the same steamer with me from
England lived at Maymyo; I was sure she had not seen
the Gorge, and with her help we might get up a party
and take our own provisions, a necessary precaution, as
the fare provided by the railway had been scanty in the
extreme, and the price charged was nine rupees a day 1
However, like many other castles in the air, this one
was not realised. For when I returned to Maymyo I
found it was a festival week, with pwes and entertain
ments going on every day, and no one wanted to come
to Gokteik; so I had to add the eave to the collection in
my Museum of Regrets.
CHAPTER XII
CHINNASAWMY AND ALL THAT HE DID
MAYMYO is a hill station; the pleasant bungalows are

dotted about with great spaces of open ground between;
there is a really fine gymkhana club, with excellent
croquet- and tennis-lawns, and a good polo-ground;
jungle has been cleared away to make room for the
military encampment, and the native town is little in
evidence, and yet curiously enough I saw more
distinctively Burmese entertainments at �1aymyo than
anywhere else. I happened to arrive just at the time
of an eclipse of the moon, a date which had been
reserved for a great ceremony, no less than the hoisting
of a htee or umbrella on to the top of a new pagoda,
and this was celebrated with many shows and a kind of
fair, which lasted for a week. While in Maymyo the
second time I again stayed at the circuit house, for
the bungalow of my friend was too small to admit of
her taking me in, and to tell the truth I was by this
time so much accustomed to my freedom that I pre
ferred it to being a guest anywhere. Yet I fully
appreciated the cordial hospitality which so many
people at Maymyo warmly extended to me, f or I was
made to feel there, more than anywhere else up-country,
that I was really welcome.
The derwan who was in charge of the circuit house
t�ok the opportunity of putting on extras for every
conceivable item, so as to run up his account ; at first it
did not occur to me to tell Chinnasawmy to cook and
" do " for me, it was he who suggested it. He came to
me the second day, and said gravely as was his wont:
" That man charge Missie too much. I make the
breakfast, I make the dinner, I make all the things."
I said, "All right, away you go," and gave him ten
rupees to start. He came again and presently said:
" That man charge Missie too much for bath, an' for
lamps and fire. I do all that work."
I was only too glad, and though he certainly had his
hands full he managed well. He cleaned the lamps,
heated the water for my bath in kerosene tins over a
fire in the compound, brought up the wood for my
bedroom fire, he continued to " valet " me, while he
cooked for me, brought in the things and waited, and
went messages. In fact he did everything for me from
morning to night. I had more reason than ever to
congratulate myself on my luck in getting him, for two
lady tourists whom I met about this time told me that
they had got a " travelling boy " from one of the well
known agencies. They paid him forty-five rupees a
month and he absolutely refused to do anything except
look after the luggage.
As I have said, I gave Chinna four annas a day food
money. When we were on the steamer he had told
me he had to pay eight annas a day for food, and had
CHINNASAWMY AND ALL THAT HE DID QOl
no means of getting his own ; he added however, " I
say to Missie, I come for four, I not ask ! " Of course
he knew very well that he would get it without asking,
but he was not grasping. Once he said to me with a
smile when the question of money turned up;" Twenty
five rupees not much money, Missie," and he added
shyly, "I nearly not come," as if it would have been
the loss of his lifetime if he had not. I asked hi1n one
day if he had saved any money, and where he put his
savings, were they in the post office?
" No missie, coos."
" Cows ?" I said astonished. " What do you do with
them when you are away?"
" A man keep them, Missie."
"And do they pay you? "
" Yes, �Iissie, pay very well."
I suppose he made his profit on the calves.
At Maymyo he began his day by going early to the
bazaar in the mornings to buy the food : once he told
me, rather as a joke than otherwise, he had had to carry
back the things himself, as he could not get a coolie.
Most boys of his class would have refused to do this,
but one good point about him was he had no scruples
as to anything being beneath his dignity, but did just
what he had to do without any fuss. Before I came
East I had heard a great deal about caste and religious
scruples which prevent a boy doing certain kinds of
work. I knew Chinna was not a Christian, and I was
puzzled as to what his religion could be, so I asked
him one day. As usual when he was embarrassed
the tip of his red tongue came out, and he ·was silent.
2 C
I insisted on a reply, "Are you Buddhist, Hindu,
what?"
Still silence.
"Boy, you must answer when I speak to you," I said
sternly ; " have you any religion ?"
The answer came reluctantly, "No, Missie."
Religion or not he was honest. I had begun right
away trusting him with all my belongings, for I felt it
would have been absolutely intolerable to have a boy
whom one could not rely upon ; he knew where every
thing I had with me was kept, he had the keys as often
as I had myself, and I never missed an anna or an anna's
worth. In fact he was much more particular than I
was about locking up and looking after things, and the
only time he flatly refused to obey me, though he clung
terrified to the handle of the railway carriage, was when
l told him to go and get his rug out of his box while
I went off to dinner at a station, and he would not go
lest any one passing should carry off any of the small
baggage. He always hurried into my room when I
had done my dressing to put away everything, assuring
me there were " plenty thiefs about." Once he
deliberately tried to give me a fright ; I had left my
gold watch on the dressing-table at the house I was
staying in when I went down to dinner the night before
I was leaving, and coming up to bed very late, I could
not find it. I was rather anxious, and looked in every
likely place, I thought a native servant might easily have
picked it up, and in that case I should never have seen it
again, for he could have kept it for years before trying to
pass it on. At last it occurred to me that Chinna might
CHINNASAWMY AND ALL THAT HE DID ·�og
have put it in the jewel case in my trunk which was
ready packed in the passage. I went out, unlocked the
trunk, unlocked the jewel case, and there, below the
tray, it was ! Next morning, when he called me, I said,
"lloy, you gave me great big fright about that watch,"
and he answered gravely:
" Not safe leave hi1n, Missie. Thief steal."
He was naturally a truthful boy, and always came at
once to tell me if he had forgotten anything, never
trying to hide it up. I am well aware he was no
paragon; I have no doubt whatever he took his s1nall
commission on the money he spent for me, and I also
understood that the " fever" which he told me he had
one night was a euphemism for something else; but as
he was willing, reliable, docile, and there when he was
wanted, he made an ad1nirable servant. In fact he was
born to be a servant; timid and of good disposition, he
wanted a master.
It makes life easy when you can go off with friends,
leaving your things all over the place, and saying
simply, "l\1eet me at the station at such and such a
time, and put what I shall want for to-night in the
small basket, the rest in the big box," and to find it all
done without a mistake. I can well understand how
men who have lived in the East for years miss the
personal attendance of a native servant.
Reckoning up what I should have paid the derwan
and what I had given Chinna during the week I was
in l\1aymyo I found that the boy had saved me about
fifteen rupees, and I began seriously to consider whether
I should not take him over to Ceylon with me when l
left the country, as I meant to stay there a fortnight.
The two girl friends who had been on board the Cheshire
with me coming out, had stayed in Ceylon, and I
should meet them there. I knew they contemplated a
visit to Burma after I had gone home, and it occurred
to me they might engage the boy and bring him back.
So I wired to them and received an affirmative answer.
This was only a short time before I left the country, and
when I told Chinna, who had been looking very woe
begone at the prospect of my departure, he cheered up
mightily. I told him also that the money he had saved
me at Maymyo went toward his passage, and decided me
to take hi1n, which I think pleased him more than if I
had given it to him then and there.
I said to him one day, "When I leave, boy, I will
try to get you a good place as butler again," and he
carefully explained that he wanted to be first butler
after having been second for so long. But two days
later-I always had to be prepared for a context after a
lapse of two days, it took that time for anything to sink
in-he said suddenly : " Missie, I not want go butler, I
like best be boy to a bachelor like this.''
"A bachelor like me?" I asked smiling.
"Yes, Missie."
So I promised to try to find a bachelor for him
instead.
I was very happy in the circuit house at Maymyo,
for my friend Mrs. H. introduced me to all her own
friends, and she and others were most kind in taking me
for drives, the form of hospitality one appreciates most.
Also I was invited everywhere, and practically "had the
CHINNASA \iVMY AND ALL THAT HE DID �05
freedo1n" of the club. The walks and drives around
J\1aymyo are indeed endless, and ·what I enjoyed as
1nuch as anything was that I could walk anywhere
without exciting c01n1nent ; it see1ned a natural thing
to do here where the native town was not in evidence.
The jungle has only recently been cleared, and within
easy reach are famous rides cut through it, and endless
delightful paths. lVIaymyo ,vas almost alone in this
particular, as nearly every other place I saw, even Ran
goon, was much restricted in the matter of drives or
rides. The chief drawback I found ,vas, that about
noon ahnost invariably there arose a ·wind which sent
the dust flying in clouds along the roads. Otherwise
it was not at all too hot for c01nfort, even at midday.
The society was nearly all military, though there is a
B. B. T. C. bungalow s01ne distance away.
The up-country residence of the Lieutenant-Governor
is at l\faymyo and the family generally come here in
March, ·when the hot weather begins. The bungalow is
very pretty and much 1nore ho1ne-like than Government
House, Rangoon, though without its i1nposing magnifi
cence. The grounds are particularly delightful and very
large.
As I have said, the occasion of the festival, ·which
took place while I was in J\1aymyo, was the eclipse of
the moon, which had been chosen as the date for hoist
ing a htee on to a newly-finished pagoda ; this I wanted
very much to see, as it is a characteristically Burman
ceremony, but I found it difficult to get any informa
tion as to the exact time it would take place. 'rhere
were other entertain1nents, such as pwes, or plays, going
on every night, and while at one of these I heard that
the hoisting ceremony was to be the next morning, and
to be followed by juggling. Then some one said that
the juggling would be about four o'clock in the after
noon, and I concluded the htee would be raised to its
exalted position at the same time. All these festivities
took place on some open ground about two miles away
from the circuit house, and when I got down there in
the afternoon I found, to my regret, the most impressive
ceremony of all was over, having taken place at mid-day.
There was the htee, in all the glitter of its new gilt,
crowning the pagoda. There were crowds of Burmans
about admiring it, and the whole place was like a fair,
with lines of booths and stalls exhibiting various attrac
tions. Near the pagoda was a place like a band-stand,
where the htee had awaited its elevation. It had been
built up in pieces, each piece being a great horizontal
slice; these, in turn, had been placed on a frail-looking
car of gilt and tinsel, which still stood in view, decorated
by a gigantic doll at each end. This had been run
down on sloping ropes to the front of the htee seven
times. The Burman knows no hurry ; his great object
is, on the contrary, to spin out the ceremony to its
fullest extent. The htee had been rebuilt piece by
piece and run up a very steep angle on ropes to the
summit of the pagoda, where willing hands awaited it
and placed it in position amid the rickety-looking
bamboo-scaffolding surrounding the pagoda. As the
htee went upwards a sea of upturned faces followed it,
and the crowd scattered handfuls of rice on it. The
Assistant-Commissioner, who had been there, told me
CHINNASAV\TMY AND ALL THAT HE DID �07
all this so vividly that I felt almost as if I really had
witnessed it!
The crowd was gorgeous, the people all dressed in
their best, with of course brilliant pink as a predomina
ting colour, but one little lady had on a sea-green tamein
of satin, and a sky blue silk scarf, and 1nade so butterfly
like a figure, I could not help bowing and s1niling to
her, which she took as a high compliment, for she
bowed and smiled repeatedly in response. ,;v ee girls,
beautifully dressed in tiny crimson lyungis and rattling
with bangles on wrists and ankles, looked as proud
of their finery as little girls do all the world over.
Their shiny heads were mostly bound with fillets of gold
and were decorated at the side with hanging orchids.
There were numbers of bullock-carts covered with rough
thatch hoods under which people had travelled in from
the country round. Near the pagoda was a sacred
column, newly gilt, with pennants and streamers flying
in the wind, and a rough erection magnificently hung
with embroidered sequin work which had been the seat
of honour for the English guests at the great cere1nony.
At the back of this, numerous poongyis were lying
about in their usual sloth, before an a1nazing assortinent
of offerings. There was a wooden bedstead ainong them,
numberless gilt urns and bowls, the vessels used for
ceremonies, and every variety of eatable, including
Scotch short-bread, milk biscuits, little loaves of bread,
sweet cakes, sticky messes, pine-apples, plantains, and
vegetables. I imagined the wee loaves of bread could
not be i1nproved by having had small candles stuck on
them from which the grease had freely run down!
Then we were invited to a great shed where the
juggling was to be performed. This was the same
place where the pwes were acted, a rough improvised
shelter, made of a thatch roof of split bamboo very loosely
put together-and when it is loose it is the untidiest kind
of thatch in the world-supported on bamboo posts,
and covered in at the sides by mats. As we entered
some of the thatch fell down, making a great dust, and
occasioning much commotion. The place was crammed
with rows and rows of spectators, one behind the other.
In the centre there were some gaily coloured mats and
rugs, on which the men were to perform, these were
surrounded by an inner ring of chairs for the English
guests. The whole of the elite of Maymyo seemed to be
there, and most delightful was the friendly, generous
spirit of our reception. We really felt we were wanted,
and that our presence added to the entertainment. Our
kind host, a member of the royal family of Burma, a
distant cousin of Theebaw, beamed with good-nature;·
he was royally arrayed in a pale lemon-coloured brocade
jacket, and a pink flowered putsoe and turban. No
sooner were we seated than trays of tea and cakes,
English fashion, were handed round . with great
liberality.
The regimental band had been asked to play, presum
ably as a concession to our taste, which certainly differs
very considerably from the Bur1nan ideal. The ruddy,
clean faces of the English Tommies and their scarlet
uniforms made a vivid splash of colour in the gleaming
rows of dark skins around. They struck up at once,
and when they finished the native band began instan-
7'2
,\T TIii·. FEST! 1· .\L, M .\ y � !\'()

S. /{. R.ry,,o!ds
WOOD-CA I< VI NG AT TIJ I·: I NCOM I' Al<.\ BJ. I·.
MONASTEl<Y, M,\ND.\Lf\Y
CHINNASAWMY AND ALL THAT HE DID fl09
taneously, as much as to say "See what we can do";
producing on the faces of the young English soldiers a
kind of rueful amusement as they listened to the weird
performance of their· rivals. The clarionets wailed, the
cymbals clashed, and the pipe shrieked in noisiest and
most attention-compelling screams.
Meantime the whole scene glowed in delicious colour
that made me long for an artist who could do it justice.
The sun broke warmly through the thinly put together
thatch in many places, and threw bands of clear rich
light on the honey-coloured skins of the three men who
performed. They were all Burmans and wore only
loin-cloths of an ample kind, probably lyungis twisted
up, and their active, well-developed bodies showed every
muscle rippling under the satin skins. Their tattooed
legs appeared like tight blue knee-breeches. Their
turbans frequently came undone in the strenuous game,
and the coolness with which they shook out and deftly
wound up their long black hair again was admirable.
Their "tutor," an old man who sat beside them but
took no actual part, had been to England and showed
off his skill before the king. The performance consisted
at first in the manipulation of large silver balls made of
the same material as the silver balls used to decorate a
Christmas-tree, but very much larger. The men caused
these to run over their bodies simply by twitching their
muscles, and caught them in every impossible attitude.
The balls seemed like living things as they bounded over
neck and back and shoulder, and flew from one to the
other, all without being touched by hand. They were
even balanced on the end of a stick. Then two ordinary
2D
!'llO A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
small household lamps were produced, and with the
same delicacy and precision of touch these were thrown
up and caught and balanced. Then balls and lamps were
managed together, while the supple bodies, full of grace
and ease, swung and twisted until every muscle was in
play.
In such a long strain it was impossible that there
should never be a mistake, and not less than the real
feats did I admire the lightning quickness and response
of brain and nerve which retrieved the missed ball on
toe or knee before ever it touched the ground. The
clown or comic man had one of those delightful faces in
which humour is blended with preternatural gravity, and
his shrewd keen eyes alone betrayed the vivacity of his
brain. All the men had that pleasant, sensible expres
sion one learns to look for in the best Burman type ; men
of such expression must have good natural characters.
CHAPTER XIII
PVVES
THOl'GH I was only in Bunna a little over two 1nonths,

I was lucky enough to see three pwes, or national plays,
all of different kinds. The first was at llangoon, and
was in some ways the 1nost ainusing of the three; the
other two vl'ere at Maymyo.
The first play was a kind of variety entertain1nent.
,i\Te drove down after dinner in a gharry to a bit of
waste ground encumbered by 1nuch debris; numerous
groups of people were threading their way to the scene.
Our gharry bu1nped over uneven railway lines, baulks
of ti1nber, and other obstacles until at last appeared a
black crowd of heads outlined against the light of the
stage. ,i\Te got out and passed through on foot, and
way was made very courteously until ·we reached the
front. A rough small platform with a sacking roof
over it was doing duty for a stage, and two or three
lamps, without shades, were hanging down fr01n the
top, so that the glare of their light was in one's
eyes most excruciatingly all the ti1ne. The enter
tainn1ent is one annually given by the owners of
Rangoon 1nills for their employes, and the o-wners
and their guests naturally have the seats of honour,
�l� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
represented by a row of chairs close up to the per
formance. Along the stage at the back and one side
were two groups of men with similar musical instru
ments; each played for a set time and then stopped
while the other had an innings, a provision that seems
necessary, as the play goes on all night. The way in
which they played against each other, one set clashing
with all their might and then stopping suddenly while
the other took it up on the instant, was most vigorous,
but terribly distracting. The chief instrument is a
kind of harmonicon, sweeping up to each end in a
curve, along which are strung slats hammered by the
performer; the cymbals make a perpetual clash, the
clarionets a discordant and wailing shriek, and the
bamboo-clappers are deafening. The total effect is felt
rather than heard. Gentle melodies would, obviously,
not appeal to Burman taste.
The spectators, who all stood, were in the open
without any sort of shelter, which would have been
quite unnecessary in the warm, still air; the sea of
faces, amid which were a large proportion of those
belonging to natives of India, stretched away into dark
ness on all sides. In the front of the platform, actually
on it, was a row of small children, who gravely and
critically regarded all that went on. They were,
evidently, of a very poor class, with shabby clothes;
indeed, no silks were to be seen here.
The first performer was the funniest little imp I ever
saw, dressed in the tight skirts and short embroidered
jacket of the old court style, with two stiffened wings
sticking out about the level of the waist behind. It
PWES 213
was impossible to tell if it were a boy or girl. Its face
was so whitened with thanaka as to look like a 1nask.
The pink silk tamein clung to it so as to show every
move1nent of its lithe body. It sang in a weird cracked
voice, one shade worse than that usually heard in
English music-halls; but it danced really beautifully,
considering the difficulties of its costume. A more self
possessed and radiantly happy little mortal I never saw.
When it paused for a moment some one beckoned it
forward, and as it knelt perched on the edge of the
rough boards, looking like a huge insect, asked it in
Burmese its sex and age, and we learned it was a boy of
ten. Two rough men who had been sitting on one side
of the platform awaiting their turn now joined in and
played the part of clowns, and very well they did it ;
the face of one was a complete study in hu1nour. I
had somehow expected the whole thing to be solemn
and tedious, but instead of that it positively irradiated
fun, and though it was impossible to follow the jokes,
which perhaps was as well, the very expressions and
gestures of the men were extremely comical. After
wards a girl, a little older than the first performer, came
on and screeched through songs in the raucous nasal
voice which seems the correct thing, and held a conver
sation with the clown in which the great jest was to
bring in a few English remarks such as " come on " and
" yes, yes," which never failed to secure smiles. The
audience were remarkably self-possessed, no howls of
laughter, or clapping, or anything of that kind disturbed
the actors.
The gesticulations of the actor's long flexible hands
and arms were the most curious part of the performance ;
every joint seemed to be oiled, a result which could only
have been secured by a life-long training. The Burmese
are very fond of twisting and turning their joints, and
cracking them to secure flexibility. The clashing of the
ear-splitting music went on all the time in a deafening
din, until I almost prayed that it might stop for a
moment. There was some attempt to suit it to the
songs, but that the attempt was not highly successful
was proved by the fact that it was not for some time
afler the girl had begun singing that one of the English
men discovered she was attempting " Daisy Bell " in
English ! This mimicry of English songs is very up
to-date, and only to be found in Rangoon. All the
evening the English contingent made suggestions as to
songs, joined in choruses wherever possible, and generally
stage-managed the affair.
The small mites along the front of the platform were
quite as interesting as the legitimate performers. One
tiny boy, who claimed to be eight, but looked about six,
had great charm of manner. He sat there gravely,
tucked up in a bunch, with the feathery ends of his top
knot sticking upright, and when one of the Englishmen
handed him a box of cigarettes, he took one with the
greatest self-possession. A Burmese child learns to have
a pull at its mother's cheroot before it is weaned. This
little lad accepted a match, struck it with the utmost
grace, and holding it lighted, handed the box back,
before applying it to his cigarette ; then he inhaled a long
breath with evident enjoyment, blowing out the smoke
through his nostrils. After a minute he passed the
PVVES 215
cigarette round for each of his tiny cmnpanions to have
a whiff, and resumed it again. Another mite near him,
with the baby bracelets of fat still on his wrists, looked
so beseechingly at the box of cigarettes, that it was
invited to take one. It was so small that it could not
manage the match and stared at it cmnically to discover
which end it ought to strike, finally handing it to an
elder sister. "VVhen the cigarette was alight it puffed
away like a steam-engine, but near the end had to
express a desire to retire hastily. Its guardian angel
wished to take from it the uns1noked half-inch of
cigarette remaining, but it vehe1nently refused and
retired still grasping it in triumph.
The songs were succeeded on the stage by something
of the nature of an act, a long conversation between
two gaudily dressed girls representing a prince and
princess, and an occasional bandying of jokes with the
clown, whose chief feature was his straight black hair,
which he manipulated in the most marvellous way,
without a single hair-pin, so as completely to change his
appearance. I had grown so desperately sleepy, almost
dazed by the flaring lights and stunned by the tumult
of sound, that I was not sorry when a move homewards
was suggested; we left the1n hard at it, with every
appearance of going on till the 1norning. If the children
get tired they lie down and slumber peacefully where
they are, a habit which must ensure their not being
awakened even if an earthquake should take place.
The pwes are free entertainments got up by or given
at the expense of some one, and those I saw at Maymyo
we owed to the generosity of the same kindly Burinan
who had welcomed us to the exhibition of juggling.
The huge irregular shed was full of dim shadows when
we arrived, though outside the moon made the white
dust lying on roofs and roads seem like a covering of
snow. Far away at one side was the stage, hardly to
be seen from the entrance; the floor was covered with
a heterogeneous crowd, many of whom seemed fast
asleep; and round the sides, as far from the stage as it
was possible to be, were " boxes " in which whole
families of grandees, dressed in their most gorgeous silks
and costly jewels, with their faces well whitened by
thanaka, sat bolt upright on their cushions. I remarked
that they could not possibly either see or hear from
there, and was told they did not want to ; they came
there to be seen, not to see.
Our chairs were at first put in this position of honour
near the boxes, but when we expostulated way was
made, and they were carried across to the centre of the
building, where space was cleared among the recumbent
forms for them. It was no easy matter to get to them
without treading on some one. A tiny brown arm,
with a wee silver bangle seemingly quite detached, really
belonged to a baby covered otherwise by a mass of rugs;
a dark shadow turned out to be an unturbaned head,
and what appeared to be a mound of bed-clothes
resolved itself into a whole family asleep together. We
stumbled through somehow, and as our eyes grew more
accustomed to the dimness, took in details. Bath-towels,
by no means over clean, were far the most popular wear,
for it was quite cold. Our host himself had added to
his other clothes a rich fur cape like a lady's, which fell
7+.
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75
M,\:-11>.\I..\Y SH<>RJ·: Ip. 222)

PWES fll7
down to his elbows. Soiled and frayed pink turbans
surmounted the bath towels in many cases. The owners
squatted in the favourite national position, and in some
cases were so enwrapped in their towels as to look like
pyramidal tubs with heads. A medley of legs and
odd limbs that would have done justice to a field of
battle filled all interstices. Just in front of me a mother,
sitting complacently with her back to the stage, nursed
an infant that could not have been more than a week or
two old. Many brightly flaming wood fires were alight on
the baked mud ground, and the people crouched so closely
around them that one wondered how it was they did
not catch fire. The acrid smoke added itself to the
pungent fumes of the enormous cigars smoked on every
side. Rugs of good English patterns, warm and com
fortable, lay about in piles ; every family seemed to
possess one or more. On one side of me a man who
had carefully placed his two small children down in
a kind of improvised bed, removed some of his own
garments and snuggled down beside them, with the
clothes up to his chin. · It was impossible to move or
one's chair legs would have injured some unconscious
head, and a variety of jokes flew about among our
party, which was reinforced by many officers from the
ca1np. "Don't move old fellow, or your chair leg will
be through that man's head. Oh, never mind, you've
done it now, for heaven's sake don't stir again or you'll
kill another of the1n ; wait till it's over," and so on,
a rattle of chaff which, absurd as it sounds, was not so
far from the truth as to be without point.
The show was one of marionettes, and marvellously
2E
they were worked, not only in dancing but with all the
gesticulations of hands and arms natural to the trained
Burman dancers as well; the wire-pullers behind the
rough curtain kept up a kind of screeching sing-song
all the time ; naturally this became a little monoton.ous,
especially as one did not understand a word of it. As
time went on more and more of the spectators took a
recumbent attitude, though when a joke was made on
the stage several heads bobbed up, which showed their
owners were listening. The effect was so funny that
the jokes, incomprehensible as they were, became real
and the whole scene was well-nigh indescribable; the
irregular supports, the gleams of pure moonlight through
the roof, the weird fires, the smoky atmosphere, the
glimpses of the cold steely night outside, the crouching
figures, the clashing and braying of the band; I began
to wonder if I were awake or in some strange new
world of dreams.
The next evening the play was not nearly so well
patronised. It was the usual stage play about a prince
and princess, and was evidently not so popular as the
marionettes. The previous night no floor space had
been visible, but now square yards of withered brown
grass and baked mud appeared in patches. The
scenery was slung over a rope at the back of the
stage, and did not hang quite even ; and when any one
wanted to see if his turn to come on had arrived he
made no scruple about lifting up the bottom and look
ing through at the stage. At one end was the green
room, where the actors could be seen making-up. There
was a weary prologue, all I am told in court Burmese
,u
ONPH�NS BROUGHT �P AT A CHUU�G

77
THE ASCENT TO A PAGODA

PWES �19
not the colloquial language, where four solemn men dis
cussed high politics and the affairs of the kingdom in
the play. ,vhen we were all much tired, a bored look
ing girl appeared ; her movements were very slow and
very self-possessed, she made a few gesticulations, but
she spent her time chiefly in fingering and arranging the
chains at her neck with her back to the audience. At
length with a look of ineffable disdain she condescended
to dance, very slowly and deliberately. On and on she
went, always the same posture, always the same slow
repetition, until one's eyes ached with weariness. It
is not in the least what Europeans call dancing, but a
very slow series of steps done over and over again with
a few twists now and then ; the dancing of the mite at
Rangoon had been animated and brilliant compared
with this, but perhaps that is also an imitation of English
habits like the songs. V\Then the performer at last de
parted, a slow pompous man, dressed in a long white coat
appeared, the excessive deliberation of his movements
made one realise that the performance must be spun
out until 5 A.M. Putting down his cheroot he kneeled
and salaa1ned three times, then strolled to a seat on the
stage ; another man entering went through exactly the
same gestures, then another and yet another. We were
told the salaaming was in our honour and was not
usually a part of the scene. The four men sat two on
a table in the middle, and one on a chair on each side.
The long white coats of muslin were the usual half
dress of courtiers in the king's time, and the costumes
on the stage are court costumes. This became so slow
and so wearisome that we ventured to make a request
��O A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
that we might have the clown as a relief as soon as
possible ; our kind host promised he would do all he
could� hut he said there was a certain order in which
convention decreed these things must take place, and to
a Burman precedent is a law in itself. At length the
men retired, and we prepared to enjoy the clown, when
lo, and behold, the same tedious and disdainful girl who
had been seen before came again. It was difficult to
sit her out. She fingered her chains, turned round,
made gestures with her long thin flexible hands over
and over again, but still there was nothing to be called
dancing. Sh� was fortunately not so long on the
boards as at first. When at last she did go the four
men, differently and very magnificently dressed, accom
panied by one in a cloth of gold representing a king,
came back. The king took up his seat in the centre,
and the others knelt humbly on each side forming a lane
before him. The pwe had not begun till ten, by this
time it was past midnight, and our eyes refused to keep
open any longer. Resisting the Burman host's pressing
invitation to wait till some coffee could be prepared "for
the ladies " we went out into the cold blue moonlight
and drove home.
I had told Chinnasawmy he might go to the pwe, and
when I saw him next morning he volunteered the preg
nant remark : " I go there, Missie ; had enough of that ;
not go again."
CHAPTER XIV
ON A CARGO BOA'l'
WHEN I left lVIaymyo to return to J\1andalay I felt
that I was setting my face homewards in good earnest ;
the trip down the Irrawaddy to Prome would take six
days by the cargo-boat, and from Prome to Rangoon
would be one night by rail; then I should have a few
more days with friends before sailing in the Hereford
shire for Ceylon, where I intended to stop only a
fortnight between two of the Bibby boats. My glorious
holiday was drawing near the end, but still one of the
best parts was to come, the river trip, which is all that
many people see of Burma.
I am not naturally gregarious, and hearing that there
were likely to be far more passengers on the mail-boat,
which only took three days in going to Prome, than on
the cargo-boat, which took double the time, I selected
the latter. The agent of the lrrawaddy Flotilla Com
pany told me that as the river was exceptionally low,
the larger steamer could not get up to Mandalay, and I
must board a"ferry-boat," which would take me down
to it. The"ferry-boat" did not start until the following
morning, but it was necessary to sleep on board, as it
�� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
went off so early it would have been difficult to reach it
in time otherwise.
I arrived in Mandalay about 8.30 P.M., and it was
very hot, but I knew my way about, and felt so much
at home there that it was very different from my first
arrival, when I had rushed about to find a decently ·
clean spot in which to make my camp. From the
station I sent Chinnasawmy on with all the luggage -in
a gharry to the shore, and myself went and had tea at
the dak bungalow, where the courteous derwan greeted
me like an old friend, Coming out I found in the
compound the weirdest little figure of a tiny native
child, a girl I imagine, who gazed at me with the
grown-up dignity inherent from birth in the smallest
oriental, mingled with the furtive alertness of the wild
creature. It was one of the most fascinating little
objects I ever saw. After tea, as I had nowhere to go,
I took a tram and went down to the shore.
But oh, that shore! Luckily I had arrived in day
light or I do not know how I should ever have reached
safety. As it was I stumbled about ankle-deep in
hopeless reaches of soft sand amid groups of natives
with mule- and bullock-carts, which kicked up the dust
in clouds. The sun was very powerful and my sunshade
had taken this opportunity to refuse to go up. I fell
over ropes and scrambled out of dry ditches, I worked
my way through tubs and bales of merchandise, and
there was no one, no one to ask I I could not speak a
word of the language, even the name of the steamer was
unknown to me, and when I made a desperate attempt
to_ explain by saying I was seeking the steamer for
7'J
, JL•r-G
WOOO·CARVJJ',;G ON A CH< NYAUr-G-l:
ON A CARGO BOA'l'
Rangoon, the natives only stared at me. They were
not rude, but evidently were unaccust01ned to seeing a
white woman down on the shore ainid all the tangle of
ropes, and the dirt and dust made by straining, tugging
animals. Yet in a way I was fortunate, for two friends
who went through the same experience some weeks
later, arrived in the dark, and wandered about hand in
hand in distress and perplexity, having as they phrased
it the "most despairing time of their lives." The diffi
culty was that there were several great flats or barges
for cargo alongside attached to the steamers, and to get
on board at all one had to elbow aside the coolies, cross
the plank gangway, and pass through the flat, and I
hardly felt inclined to do this without knowing whether
the steamer were the right one or not. At length,
however, after walking on what seemed miles, but in
reality was, I suppose, some hundred yards or so, I
ventured to board a flat, and found on one of the
adjoining steamers a semi-white man who spoke English.
He pointed out the right boat to me, much further
down stream, and I returned to the sandy waste and
climbed over great pipes and baulks of timber and
slippery inclines until I reached it. The natives, who
were loading the accompanying flat, spoke a few words
of English, and seeing me, informed me "l\1em-sahib
boy here," which gladdened my heart, as I knew my
luggage was safe, and I could change shoes and stockings
and empty out the piles of accumulated sand they con
tained. I went up to the small forward deck, where I was
to spend the next few hours, feeling rather dismal ; it was
stuffy and uninteresting; but I was in a haven at all events.
��4 A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
That night at dinner I had my first sight of white
ants with wings. There are several varieties, and this
particular sort are like flat-winged flies, not so large or
solid as bluebottles, more of the type of river gnats.
Because of them it was impossible to have a lamp on
the table ; we put it as far from us as we could. The
beasts kept up a buzz like a hailstorm, and actually
crawled inside the globe of the lamp, gradually filling it
up. The captain, a Scot, who had been years in the
country, laughed at my disgust and assured me I
should see more before I had done. However, he added,
I should probably get off easily, for the winged insects
were only to be appreciated to the full after the rainy
season.
Next morning we were off very early and soon came in
view of the big steamer, the China ; after circling round
her like a pigeon round its mate, we came up alongside,
and were transferred. The Irrawaddy Flotilla Company's
steamers are extremely comfortable and pleasant. There
is a large saloon deck forward, roofed in, but open for
the greater part along the sides. A table and deck
chairs and bright coloured rugs 1nake it look homely
and comfortable. The cabins are of large size, and that
which I had was furnished with real bedsteads, not
bunks, and had a bath-room attached. For food the
arrangement is to pay four rupees a day, a reasonable
amount considering the obvious difficulties of procuring
supplies. I cannot imagine a more restful and pleasant
holiday than to come down stream thus through this
fascinating country. The chief delight is the abounding
leisure in a hurrying age, you stop everywhere and
�(,
o:--E OF TJ-l lc '' FL.\TS .,

31
A BUHM�S� BU�T
ON A CARGO BOAT
never know for how long, it is just a matter of cargo.
Your conscience has no excuse for bothering you, for
you 1nust give yourself up to pure laziness and
si1nply drift; even the most fussy of globe-trotters
would be unable to make any plans, and would be
forced into an outer semblance of calmness.
\iVhen I first came on board I found a party of high
class Brahmins travelling about in charge of a young
English1nan, but they soon got off, and I was the only
passenger for the rest of the way, a boon for which I
blessed 1ny luck, as I heard that on the mail stea1ner
which had left the day before, there were fourteen
people to fill the fourteen berths !
The Brahmins wore European clothes with soft shoes
and collars, and looked as slovenly as only natives can
in these circu1nstances. 'I'hey had their food, of course,
apart from us and kept to their own side of the saloon.
They all talked English, and it was somewhat a1nusing
to hear them discussing English books. One of thein
said to another, "I am reading Pendennis, I do not
find it exciting," and the other answered, " I am read
ing Pride and Pn:judice by Jane Austen. It has not
plot, I like plot, neither is it a detective story, it is only
history." To this critical estimate the other rejoined,
"Read Lady Adelaide by Mrs. Henry \i\Tood. That
book is interesting fr01n the beginning till the end. It
is lovely ! "
\i\Te had on each side of us a great flat with the bows
a little way behind ours, and whenever one looked over
the side one saw these flats following with a dreadful
n10notony. I can well imagine their use, they enable a
2F
great deal more cargo to be carried. 'fhe labour of
packing it on their capacious decks is much less than
that of conveying it down into the steamer's hold ; also
if the steamer were loaded too heavily she would draw
too much water for the shallow sand-barred river,
whereas the flats enable the weight to be distributed;
yet from the point of view of a passenger the flats are a
nuisance.
To begin with, when we stopped, I had to cross a
gangway often encumbered by a rush of natives, push
through an unsavoury flat laden with cattle, and go over
another gangway before I could reach the shore, and as
we stopped only a short time at some places, I did not
care to face all this. Then, too, when we were drawn
up, I could see from the saloon deck delightful groups
of people washing or squatting on the shore, just too far
off to get with my camera ; if no flat had intervened, I
could have taken many a picture from the deck in
comfort. Thirdly, at these same landing-places, the flat
blocked my view of all the most interesting part of the
shore-the part where the full tide of life flowed-I
could not see over its corrugated iron roof, and I could
not see round its wide-spreading sides. Yet as flats
were the one drawback incidental to the cargo-boat and
the advantages were many, I cannot grumble.
The Company has had a very happy idea in placing
on the saloon deck two huge mirrors at right angles to
the line of progress, so that if you are leaning back in a
deck-chair you see a series of coloured living pictures of
low-lying sandy shores and green banks and blue water
for ever passing before you ; to sit and look at those
ON A CARGO BOAT
pictures all day is occupation enough as occupation goes
in this lotus land, and I fear my system will never be
quite free frmn the gerins of laziness then imbibed unto
my life's end. The pictures were varied occasionally
by a line of thatch and mat huts along the high ground,
or by the huge rafts floating down-stream or the quaint
native boats; there was no lack of detail.
The first day slipped by very fast, we pulled up two
or three times at small places, and when we finally
anchored for the night about five o'clock, the captain
came to ask me if I would care to go for a walk with
the first officer, who was detailed for the duty. I was
glad enough, for I always felt in Burma it was a little
difficult to walk alone. VVe wandered through a dusty
and very typical Burman village, a jungle of compounds
and bamboo fences, and tumble-down huts all standing
on legs; for when the wet weather comes the whole
place is under flood. The village was completely
surrounded by a high and impenetrable palisade of
thorn which had only certain entrances. Here and
there were trellises with large green vegetables, rather
like our vegetable marrows, hanging fr01n them� an<l
there was an occasional tree bearing green limes, but the
predominating in1pression is that of thick grey dust in
which rolled innumerable pariah dogs, who simply yelled
at us, and when one began, the whole asse1nblage
took it up and the result was pandemoniu1n. We came
out at the other side of the village on the wide 1nud
flats of the paddy-fields, intersected by raised ridges. It
was very dull and utterly uninspiring. In fact I am
bound to say that except for the colouring the scenery
down the river is the very reverse of beautiful, and I
describe it as I saw it ; wherein then lies the fascination?
Why do I look back on that river trip as one of my most
cherished memories? Why does it gleam out as one of
the most interesting things I have ever done? Ceylon
was ten times more beautiful, but Ceylon has not a tithe
of the fascination of Burma.
Oh those peaceful days, so monotonous in their even
flow, but never, never dull. The prevailing leisureliness
lay around me like an atmosphere. I used to have
chota-hazri in bed, and get up about nine. During the
morning I read or wrote or watched the ever-changing
pictures in mirror or reality. The mirror of the Lady of
Shalott was not to be compared with mine, for she saw
only familiar objects belonging to her own country and
age, and mine were all revelations. A little flag flutter
ing on the shore summoned the steamer where there
was cargo to pick up, and we dawdled across from one
bank to another, stopping at all the little places on the
sandy shores. Sometimes I went for a stroll, but it
was generally too hot, and then I never knew how
long we should remain at any particular place-it might
be an hour, but it might be only half-and in the deli
cious state of my indolence to do anything up to time
was positive torture ; so more often I sat under the
shade of my awning and watched the people from that
sweet shelter. At eleven o'clock came breakfast, and by
one it was time for a siesta. Afternoon tea was over by
four, by which hour we were generally anchored for the
night, so it was quite safe to go and potter on the beach
and take photos. Yet even at four it was amazing to
ON A CARGO BOAT
feel the power of the sun, which seemed to strike down
with the force of physical blows.
After the first evening I suggested to the captain I
should join him in a walk instead of bestowing my com
pany on his junior officer, and he acquiesced. This was
serious business. We put on our strongest boots and I
my shortest skirts, because of the unutterable dust and
the prickly thorns, and we strode off inland it might be
three miles or more, round about the villages, over the
waste ground, and back as the sun fell, ready for a com
fortable bath before dinner. This was not the last time
we went, and during these walks I learned much that
interested me, and never failed to get all sorts of odds
and ends of information out of my companion, who, like
most captains, had a watchful eye.
At dinner he and the officer joined me, and stayed
on talking while we enjoyed our cigarettes and coffee,
and I learned the intricacies of shoals and cargo. This
could not last long, because after a certain hour we had
a visitation of the winged white ants I had been pro
mised, and they were much more terrible than those I
had seen already. V\Te did not meet them at once but
some way down the stream, and the first I knew of
them was when the captain called out to me to come
and see a sight on the lower deck. A sight indeed it
was ! The whole place was like a snowstorm-a stage
snowstorm-for the flakes flew in a thick white whirl.
It would have been quite impossible to stand in it; the
insects were not only round the lamps, but in every
cubic yard of space, large whitey-drab creatures like big
moths. I exclaimed, and wondered they did not come
up on to my deck as well, but I spoke too soon ; a few
of the most enterprising discovered the lamps there, and
five minutes after the place was awhirl with them. I
could not even have dashed in among them to get book
or paper. They filled me with a peculiar loathing. And
when the vanguard appeared, as they did thereafter
about ten minutes past nine every night, I fled to my
bed and the protection of my mosquito-curtains. In the
morning they lay like wisps of cotton all over the place,
and had to be swept up. They then seemed to be of the
same texture as the skeleton leaves children pull out of the
moist earth-all substance was gone, and the bows of the
flats were covered with them as it were with grains of rice.
The captain told me that at certain times of the year
they come out of holes, where the ordinary white ants
live, and the crows seem to know beforehand when they
are coming. Once he saw two old crows standing
guarding a hole, and presently there emerged first a
few winged ants, and then more and more in clouds, and
the crows snapped them up until they nearly burst, but
could, of course, only dispose of about one per cent.
Though the Burmese villages were not attractive at
close quarters, they looked very pretty from the river,
and especially in the evening light. There might be one
or two high-sterned boats, with most wonderful and
elaborate wood-carving, black with age, forming a panel
The steersman sat in a little look-out station, raised even
higher than the stern, and had a roof-mat to protect him
from the sun. Occasionally, for instance to get past us
as we lay in-shore, four fine bronzed figures would pull
at the oars in graceful, athletic poses, and perhaps so
ON A CARGO BOAT �31
many as five or six of these fascinating boats would come
slowly past us in a line. But the method of progression
is generally by paling, and the difficulty is to hit the
happy medium, to keep sufficiently in the shallow parts
for the poles to be used effectively and yet not to run
aground. The boats are being gradually given up, be
cause their build and shape is not the most convenient
for carrying cargo,· as I can well believe. Once I
crawled into one which was tethered by the shore, having
sent the boy previously to ask permission, and I found
the owner, a rather grtJ.mpy old Burman, squatted under
his very low roof smoking. The hold was much deeper
and more capacious than I had imagined, but the work
of getting stuff in and out must be very laborious.
One small oft-repeated detail on board the Clzina
which never failed to interest me was the carrying of the
line ashore when we tied up. Eight of the Lascars had
this job under their peculiar care, and they used to swim,
often a fair distance, carrying the line with them to make
the head of the steamer fast to a tree or post. Again and
again I tried to get a snapshot at them as they jumped
into the water, but always failed. They frequently leaped
"into the sun," which made it impossible. At other
times it was too late in the evening, or the shadow of the
boat was over them, so that though I was ever on the
look-out I never got a good photo, and the only one I
managed to take at all was a fraction of a second too
slow, and the movement resulted in a blur. These men
wore blue linen trousers fastened round the waist, and
though they were in and out of the water all day I do
not suppose they ever changed, as the hot sun soon
�3� A BACHELOR GIRL IN BURMA
dried up the moisture. They always sprang feet first,
which gave them a bad send-off, and they swam hand
over hand, more in the fashion of a dog than a man.
The course of the river, where navigable, is buoyed by
long bamboo poles painted red and white, and black and
white, these are attached to buoys beneath the water,
and they rise and dip and turn with the current so as to
look exactly like the necks of swan. I was at first often
deceived by them, imagining some graceful bird was
paddling ahead.
At most of the villages where we stopped in the
evening there were whole families bathing together,
father and mother and children ; the parents washed
themselves assiduously, shaking out their long black hair,
and then the mothers scrubbed the babies all over, while
the older children sported like young sea-lions. Both
sexes were always most scrupulous in their manners, and
never appeared out of the water unclad. The women
would discard their small linen jackets, and draw the
lyungis up to their armpits, fastening them with a subtle
twist, then when the washing was completed-and real
washing it was, though they never used soap-they would
step out on shore and slip a clean, dry lyungi over their
heads letting the wet one drop off beneath at the same
time. There was no drying necessary. Subsequently
they washed the discarded lyungi, beating it out upon
the stones ; then men and women alike, stooping down,
just brushed the surface of the water aside, and drank from
their hands; last of all chatties were filled and carried away
for household consumption. So far as I could see the
invariable routine was never departed from; first they
82
LASCARS JUMPll\"G OVERBOARD TO LAND THI·: UNI·:

GIRLS C.\RRYI;-;G CH.\TTIES, ;-;\'.\L'NG-U
ON A CARGO BOAT
washed themselves, then their clothes ; then they drank,
and finally carried up wafer for their use! I suppose
long custom has made them immune from typhoid.
The water was of course running, but it was a slow and
muddy flood, and it always appeared a matter of perfect
indifference to the people if the whole of their neighbours
were bathing above them. The children enjoyed the
performance with a zest that was infectious. I used to
see small girls dancing into the water, with babies
almost as big as the1nselves, and going nearly out of
their depth ; the wee things, which had cried as the cold
water first struck them, becoming infected by their sisters'
merriment, soon shouted aloud in glee. l\1ost industrious
too were the small girls in carrying the red chatties full
of water up the steep sand or 1nud cliffs. I saw one
little mite going backwards and forwards ·with her
chatty many times, though to lift it when full always
proved a staggering job. The river was low as it was
the dry season and we were not able to come right up
to some of the large places as I should have liked, but
generally stopped at a recognised landing or steamer
ghaut some miles off, where there was a small village
or settlement only.
It was a pretty sight to watch the villages in the
evening with the rich yellow westering sun flooding all
over them. Generally there were the picturesque roofs
of the choungs appearing above a grove of palms ; a few
little thatch huts turned end on, or at any angle along
the higher ground ; people gay in their red lyungis
dotted up and down the sandy shore, bringing droves of
bullocks, the colour of .Jersey cows, down to water. It
2G
was odd, too, to see the difference in habits between the
bullocks and the great buffaloes ; the former only drank
and never went more than knee-deep into the flood, the
buffaloes went in right up to their necks in droves, with
their huge branching horns making a tangle on the
surface of the water. Yet interesting as they were all
these Burmese riverside places were utterly different
from my anticipatory picture. I had imagined a firm
yellow smooth beach like those of some English seaside
places, dainty little maidens in pink silk with shining
heads and gaily coloured paper parasols, tripping down
all spotless and entrancing. The reality was baked
mud, dust, good-tempered, rough, coolie girls wearing
old weather-stained cotton lyungis, and in the day-time
all the glare, bustle and heat of heavy work done under
a baking sky, and a general litter of untidiness o� the
beach. Everything looked much the best in the
evenings, and then at a distance; to investigate the
picture closely was to lose the chief effect.
Often and often I regretted not being able to speak
to the people in their own tongue, for, as every one
knows who has tried it, to talk through an interpreter,
himself not very fluent, to people who are shy to begin
with, produces but small result. Not only on shore,
but on the steamer itself, when I walked through the
long covered after-deck and saw the passengers squatting
about among all their household gods, I would have
given anything to chat with them, but all that I could
do was to nod and smile, and nodding and smiling very
soon become insipid.
S±
.\'f EVS7\"ING TIMI·:, MINGUI

EVE1'ING TOILET, MAGWJ,
CHAPTER XV
THE CHARM O:F THE IRRAWADDY
I HAVE so far kept to the general aspect of the river and

its villages, but there were many details which are too
interesting to pass over cursorily. The first thing that
attracted my attention after leaving Sagaing was the
junction of the Chindwin with the Irrawaddy ; the
mouths of the two rivers are so wide and the banks so
flat that they do not form any very striking scene, but
yet the views were fine seen in full sunlight ; the sand
was a bright yellow, and the water a lovely blue, while
the distant ranges of low heights took on a peculiar
pinkish tinge that I soon grew to recognise. Popa, the
only outstanding hill in this part, is of volcanic origin,
and rises to nearly five thousand feet sheer fro1n a level
plain. He is a conspicuous object all along the river
for many miles, and owing to the curves of the channel
he appears to be first on one side and then on the other.
Pakkoku was one of the earliest places where I went
ashore, braving the obstacles that lay in the way. I
passed through two flats, one beyond the other, of
which the shiny iron floors were made more slippery by
the occupation of countless bullocks. Coolies were
rushing hither and thither with loads, and it was by no
means easy to get ·a clear moment to negotiate the long
planks of the gangways that swung alarmingly. I
climbed up the dry baked mud of the shore, which
Chinnasawmy assured me was " burning hot " to his feet,
and I watched the busy workers swarming up and down
into the entrance of the flat like ants into a hole. A
brilliant patch of colour I thought was a carpet attracted
my attention from afar, it turned out to be a mass of
red chillies spread in the sun to dry.
Very soon after leaving Pakkoku we came to Nyaung-u
which is, so to speak, the river-port of the mighty and
famous Pagan (pronounced Pagahn). Bitterly to my dis
appointment we did not stay here for the night, so I
had no chance of visiting the famous temples of Pagan
of which Sir J. G. Scott says; "Nothing quite like the
Pagan temples is to be found anywhere else. They
should be seen by every visitor to Burma."
There are many pagodas also, but the chief ruins are
those of temples which one does not meet with else
where in Burma. That Pagan was once a place of great
importance may be judged from the fact that the ruins
extend for eight miles along the shore! Nyaung-u is in
itself interesting but it pales before its fascinating neigh
bour. It is celebrated for its lacquer work, but I did
not see any, because it seems the villagers only bring out
their wares for display when the mail-boat comes down,
and did not think the cargo boat important enough to
bother about. We were here for nearly an hour, and I
wandered through the village and got rather good
photos.
Then we left the ghaut and went slowly over to the
THE CHARM OF THE IRRA WADDY �37
opposite shore. The river was so wide here that I
looked across a stretch of pure smooth lavender
coloured water extending for over a mile, edged by a
strip of drab sand, and a long range of pagodas of
varying heights and shapes presenting somewhat the
aspect of a forest of fir-trees. The chief outstanding
objects were a tall golden spire and the white sides of
the temple called Gauda Palen, which, though not large,
is conspicuous, being near the water's edge. The chief
of all the temples is the Ananda, of which I got a glimpse
in outline, against the sky. Days and even weeks might
be spent by the veriest novice happily amid these
magnificent ruins. I put Pagan aside in the nook
of regrets which holds also the Ruby l\1ines, the
l\1engohn Bell, the "road to China," and a few other
trifles.
The same night we passed on to Yenangyaung and
tied up there. This is the place of the famous petro
leum wells which have been worked for many years;
before we arrived I was puzzled to understand the
meaning of the tall thin-legged erections like miniature
Eiffel towers or the Martians of Wells's famous book
which bestrode every ridge and boss of hill. It was the
most absolutely dreamlike shore I had yet seen. The
cliff-banks rose sharply just like the canvas walls at
Earl's Court, seeming to have height without thickness,
and were bent in innumerable wrinkles and folds, they
were of the same dull drab colour as the curtailed shore,
and a few scrubby bushes, stunted and black in the
evening light, were scattered about thinly. To anchor
here instead of at Nyaung-u was a sad blow, but trade
calls for transport and much cargo was awaiting
removal.
I went down that evenin_g and walked about on the
lower deck to see the cargo ; it looked like a hospital
ward, for the passengers aft were all sleeping on
the ground in rows amid their goods and chattels. It
puzzled me how they could sleep at all, for it was
tempestuously noisy, but many pwes doubtless formed
the basis of their training. The harder a native works
the more he shouts, and as there were many great iron
pipes and boilers to be got on board the air was hideous
with yells. The climax was reached with the advent of
one enormous boiler, when the din rose to a maddening
pitch, the only thing I could compare it with was a
pack of hounds in full cry I
We started early next morning, but had hardly left
when we ran heavily on to a sandbank and stuck there.
This was our first mishap of such a kind, and as we got
off in four hours we were lucky, for a previous steamer
had just been on that same bank for about thirteen!
The procedure is interesting. After sounding all round
to find out on which side the deep water lies, the anchor
is taken out in a boat and dropped some way off, and
the steamer steams up to it, if it drags you wait and
"smoke a cheroot" (I quote the captain), for the silt
coming down will soon root it there beyond the
possibility of its being pulled up.
The Lascars in their blue trousers, with long white
tunics down to the knee, their bright scarlet belts and
little flat round forage caps always reminded me of men
in a comic opera, for they did a great deal of scrambling
86
TJ-11: L.\SC.\RS AND TIil·: ,\NCIIOR

87
CHILDRtN Ai\"D PARIAH DOG, APHAN-Zl·:!G If, 2-H)

THE CHARM OF THE IRRAWADDY �39
and shouting and getting in each other's way, but never
were they so comic-opera-ish as on this occasion. The
huge anchor was balanced on one side of the boat ready
to be let go, and the natives instinctively and without
thought gathered on the opposite side to counterbalance
it-result, the anchor went over certainly, and so did the
men as the boat tilted up with the relief of weight l It
was the neatest thing I ever saw, of course they could
all swim, and scrambled back immediately, and the
roars of delight with which their c01nrades on board
greeted the exploit were worth hearing.
Up the river, where the natives of India have not
penetrated, nearly all the coolie work is done by
Burmans; one sees everywhere the tattooed breeches
which proclaim their race. Very well-proportioned
specimens the men are, and though medium-sized they
are so well formed and active that it is a pleasure to
watch them; almost invariably their first thought, after
working till the perspiration pours from them, is to go
into the water to wash. Girls, quite young things, also
carry sacks energetically, and even haul ropes, though
the captain said that that was something new. The
method by which the incoming cargo is checked, is by
tallies or little sticks, one of which is handed to each
coolie who goes with a sack across the gangway, and
the overseer on board collects the tallies for the total
number, the workers are not paid individually, but just
hired together, and as they come and go pretty evenly
this is a fair method. At very many places a sky-blue
or black-clad Chinaman, invariably with an umbrella,
ca1ne down in charge of cargo to put abroad, he was
almost always owner or manager, not workman. Between
the natives of India who are getting all the rough
work and shoving up from below, and the Chinaman
seizing business opportunities and making his pile above,
the Burman will eventually find himself a bit squeezed,
but at present he is quite happy and does not at all
object to other people doing his work.
At a place below Yenangyaung, a mere ghaut or
landing, with no huts at all, I went on shore for a walk.
The country realised my idea of South Africa, the low
ridges were simply speckled all over with round stones
laid so thickly that nothing could have been planted
between them; thorn bushes, wait-a-bit by nature if not
by name, grew here and there. The Lascars had all
run to a high hedge and were picking and eating
something eagerly ; the boy told me these were wild
plums, a little round dull fruit the size of a large cherry,
with a good deal more stone and skin than anything
else. They are yellowish-green when ripe, and after
being gathered, soon turn a brilliant red, which is pretty
to look at, but they are then rotten to a European taste,
though they are collected in hundreds for making jam.
The land, as far as one could see, was of the same
utterly dry, monotonous type, with scrub sparsely
grown, a stony surface, broken up by deep nullahs or
dry water-courses with steep sides. Whichever direction
I went in I was soon brought up by one of these and
stopped. The boy meantime got into difficulties with
the thorny ground, which did not suit his bare feet at all.
I should have thought from long use his soles would
have been like leather, but he was very sensitive, and even
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on grass where a certain kind of thorn is found I used
to look round and see him painfully dancing like a cat
on hot bricks.
When we drew up at Zigon a little further down, I
expected something worth seeing, for several of the high
ornamental roofs of poongyi choungs peered above a
very picturesque grove of palms ; carpets of the red
plums were spread out everywhere, and the place looked
more bowered in green and less hopelessly dusty than
most. After some difficulties with dogs, and cactus
thorns, and hedges, and palisades, we got near the
poongyi choungs, and found a little group of boys
playing together. Chinnasawmy told me they were
orphans brought up at the choung. He acted school
master and drilled them into a group while I took a
photo of them, and then I gave them backsheesh-two
annas to divide among them. It seemed to me hardly
enough for about twelve children, but I was told " Buy
plenty in bazaar." It is a great pleasure here to see the
complete confidence and friendliness among the children.
I dare not say that bullying is unknown, but it certainly
seemed to me it was so. If I gave the biggest boy in a
group any money to divide, the little ones always seemed
absolutely confident of getting their share ; there was
no complaining, or grabbing, or quarrelling.
The shore as usual was alive with people, but their
manners were innately good. They were, of course,
extremely curious, and would, I have no doubt, have
liked to examine the texture of my clothes, but they
never jostled me or stared while I was looking. The
motley crowd, all dressed in dingy yellows or reds, were
2H
seated squatting like great birds in rows, and if I stood
for a minute looking seawards and then turned, I would
find whole groups of twenty or more removed several
yards nearer, but not looking at me at all-oh no I
admiring the landscape or seascape just as I was doing
myself; another turn away for a few seconds would find
them all closer up still, so close I could have touched
them with my hand, but still admiring the scenery !
One evening we arrived at quite a large place, which I
was told was called Silleh-myo. The shore was most
animated, and several glittering pagodas arose from the
toddy-palms behind. There were large Burmese boats
tied up by the shore, their delicious red wood, toned to
the colour of a violin-case, reflected in the ripples of the
silver-blue water. Rows of bullock-carts and heaps of
merchandise for transport were on the shore. It is a
comfort to see how well treated Burman bullocks invari
ably are. I noted this at the time, but remembered it
especially after seeing the poor thin creatures in Ceylon
hideously scarred by branding all over their bodies. I
strolled off to look at what there was to be seen, followed
by the boy and a friend he had picked up somewhere,
a native of India, not a Burman. I asked if there were
a deputy-commissioner here, and was told, "No Missie,
only Myouk; no gentlemens." The chief industry of
the village seemed to be in the making of pillows, stools,
and mattresses, of which there were piles before many of
the houses. We went through the village to a newly
gilt pagoda of great size, with a snowy white base.
This did not interest me so much as a perfect wilderness
of falling and decayed ones behind it. These had an air
of melancholy; little paths led about among high
growing weeds and tumbled, rotting red brick. A tall
flower, like a mauve and white phlox, grew abundantly
at every corner, and dark wooden choungs, with the
carving falling to bits, stood here and there. I heard a
drone of voices in one of these and made my way toward
it, as I knew it meant school was going on, and I wished
to see the little scholars at work. It was a poor, small
choung, but when I climbed up the wooden steps I
came on an interesting scene. Three little pupils were
lying on their stomachs, with long slabs of black steatite
or slate in front of them. On these they were writing
with sharp styles, carrying on a monotonous drone the
while. The poongyi, who was an old man in heavy
horn-rimmed spectacles, looked most indignant at the
sudden interruption, and the pupils incontinently fled
into the dark shadows at the back ; never had they seen
such an apparition as a tall lady in a white topee and
European clothes ! l\1y self-constituted guide evidently
explained to the poongyi that I was a good sort, because
after a few minutes' conversation his grim expression
relaxed, and when I called out to the children, " Pice,
pice ! " they hastened back and began vehemently re
citing their lessons again, with twice the energy they had
before displayed. I gave them the pice, which they
grabbed eagerly, and we passed on.
Afterwards, when I asked what else there was inter
esting to see, I was taken to a compound where a woman
was making a strip of cotton stuff for a lyungi. It was
a pattern of black and magenta check, and she told us
she could, by working hard, do a lyungi a day, but that
meant going at it from morning till night. I could well
believe it, for she had to count twenty-five threads of
one colour before beginning the next, and every single
thread of the warp had to be tied separately before she
began. She worked the machine with her feet and
threw the shuttle across by hand. For a complete lyungi
she received a rupee, out of which of course the cost of
the thread had to come.
I wanted to buy some Burmese shoes, so we passed to
the bazaar, a very poor place-only a collection of dirty
sheds. The shoes were all much too small, but I bought
one pair of emerald green velvet, and had the whole
population of the village round me while I did it. I had
wandered about enough and it was time to go aboard,
so I asked the boy if I should give backsheesh to the guide,
who spoke no English, so could not understand. He
really had helped us, and evidently knew his way about;
but the boy said no, he was a passenger and only came
"for pleasure." I never found the people a bit grasping.
At one place further down the river called Aphan
zeig we stopped for about two or three hours, and I had
great fun with the children. I stayed on board, and the
saloon deck was some distance, say about eighty yards,
from the shore; in this space many small children were
bathing and swimming with delightful abandon, boys
and girls together, flinging themselves along the water
with a kind of gliding motion as I have seen sea-lions
do. On the table of the saloon lay dessert ready for
dinner, among which were half a dozen small oranges,
or limes as they are called here, so I threw one into the
water ; after it all the young ones went instantly. The
THE CHARM OF THE IRRAWADDY 245
orange floated, bobbing up and down, and at the end of
a wild race a little girl of about ten, who swam splen
didly, grabbed it just before a boy about her own age
reached it too. She swam back in triumph, throwing
back her long hair and shouting. They then all danced
up and down on the shore, showing in all their gestures
they wanted more; so I threw one after another and
was rewarded by seeing fine races. The little girl was
far the best swimmer and secured two for herself.
When the oranges were exhausted I asked the "butler "
for more, saying I would pay for them; but at first he
refused, protesting they were "for gentlemen," and at
last, as I persisted, swore solemnly he had no more. I
knew this was a lie, and sent the boy to tell him so, but
the boy could not get them out of him; he only
managed to bring me one or two rotten ones, and when I
expostulated, saying they were not good enough, he
told me: "Little boys eat this, lVlissie; say very
good." Then I remembered I had two or three toys
from the Arakan pagoda-gaudy tigers and painted
monkeys-in my trunk, and fetched them. When I
held up the first tiger, all red and yellow paint, with his
legs going on strings, there was a yell of excitement
that rent the air, and all the children were in the water
ere ever it touched the surface. I merely dropped it
instead of throwing, so it was a long swim; but the
small boy who won swam back with one hand, holding
it up over his head with the other so as not to get it wet.
Then there was a monkey and another tiger, and when
the frantic excitement was discerned mothers came
running to see what it was all about, and the treasures
were displayed with much gesticulation. At length,
seeing no more were forthcoming, a procession was
formed, and the biggest boy, holding the largest tiger
high aloft,solemnly marched up to the village followed by
all the others, the rear brought up by the smallest who
had the purple· monkey. Never did cheap toys furnish
forth such a royal and to be remembered afternoon's
entertainment. One or two of the oranges had been
green and did not float, and a tiny fat girl spent hours
feeling about with her feet in the mud where they had
fallen, to recover them. I had nothing more to give the
children but some French prunes, so I went through the
flat and down to them with a handful, and was instantly
surrounded ; but most of them refused to eat them, not
knowing what they were. They took them and held
them in their hands, but did not even nibble them in
spite of all my pantomime, and one mother shook her
head and took them from her offspring. I went back
and inquired the Burmese word for plums and brought
back an interpreter, an overseer who was working cargo,
but the prunes had disappeared. He inquired of a little
girl who had annexed several, and found that they had
all gone the right way ; once begun they had quickly
vanished. I longed for some of the native sweets, which
the children would have understood. A great charm
about the little ones was their fearlessness. At one place
I saw a drove of bullocks rush down like an avalanche,
and after them a very small boy sitting bare-backed on
a particularly fine little pony ; the child came down at
headlong speed and simply flung himself off into the
sand, letting the pony go and chivvying the bullocks
'l'HE CHARM OF THE IRRAWADDY 247
into the water with a stick, then danced like a 1nad
thing along the shore, so full of wild spirits he could
not contain himself. The children never wore any
head-dress even under the most grilling sun, and it is a
marvel how they escape sunstroke.
The cargo we took in at the various places was very
mixed; letpet, or pickled tea, appeared in large quan
tities, sacks and sacks of the pith the people use in their
cigars mixed with tobacco (it is also used for making
pith helmets), sacks of dried palm-leaves, kutch, pease
and beans, cotton, and when we arrived at l\1agwe, or,
rather, at the ghaut three miles from Magwe, the whole
beach was covered by a mountainous heap of sacks.
Some one told me there were fourteen thousand ! They
were all full of monkey-nuts, or, as they are called here,
ground-nuts, the cultivation of which is found to be so
profitable that paddy is being given up for the1n. They
are partly used to make oil-cake. Of course it was
perfectly impossible that our steamer, even with the
assistance of two flats, should take on all these, and
when I asked the captain what he would do, he told 1ne
that the coolies would go on loading as late as they
liked, and that he should get off first thing in the
morning, leaving the rest for following stea1ners. It
would be months before the whole could be carried off.
Like many other arrangements of nature there is a
perversity in this matter of cargo, for in the wet season,
when the river is high and 1nuch cargo might be carried
without danger of overloading, there is little or nothing
to take, whereas when there is little water and the carry
ing capacity is limited there is an unlimited a1nount of
cargo. The captain spoke sadly-the greater part of
his salary is derived from his percentage on the cargo 1
It was at Magwe that a slight fire occurred among the
sacks, and the coolie girls rushed frantically about,
emptying their chatties on to any and every sack they
saw, quite regardless of the fact that they were doing a
good deal of damage ; there was much more smoke
than fire, and noise than either, and the little conflagra
tion was soon got under.
There was a very interesting group of poongyi choungs
near here, and I went into the quiet grove around them,
and climbing the steps listened for quite a long time to
the chant of the little pupils of whom there were twenty
or thirty. They could all see me standing sun-framed
in the dark entrance, but the old poongyi, who was the
teacher, was hidden behind a column. These little
scholars were much too clever to give me away, and
beyond a nudge to pass the joke on to one another,
they continued their loud recitative, with greater anima
tion than before, but as the news spread, and one little
face after another stealthily turned toward me with a
broad grin showing white teeth, the poongyi began to
suspect some side-show and stirred ; so I retreated.
There was an immensely wide road of red dust, a
great bund, broad as a river and seamed with bullock
cart tracks, running up to Magwe itself, but when I
went for a walk that evening I turned away from this,
and passing down a high hedged lane not unlike an
English lane, with the boy at my heels, struck out into
bypaths. To go with the boy through a lane full of
growing things was a liberal education. He knew every
YO
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plant in the hedge-row. Here were little brilliant scarlet
seeds exactly like ladybirds lying in a pentagonal pod.
"Burmans 1nake medicine," he told me. Then a plant
with dark shiny green leaves like i vy ; "Burmans eat
these, Missie." He restrained me as I would have
gathered a tall flowering plant attractive to look at.
" Not touching, Missie ; him got black juice, not good."
Then we caine across whole bushes of wild pluins
growing rich and yellow, and his face brightened, for he
loved them. I waited while he filled his pockets, until,
as I told him, he had got quite enough to make himself
ill. The bushes were covered with little insidious thorns
bent back like fish-hooks, so picking was by no means
pure delight. Thorns were everywhere, on nearly all
the plants. At last a great black pod attracted 1ny
attention, I broke it off, and peeled it open, and inside
was a little baby loofah sponge, filled with black seeds;
such is the depth of my ignorance, I had always had an
idea loofahs grew in the sea like other sponges. "\¥ e
passed by the tall creepers and high cactus, and ca1ne
out at last by a great loop on to the main road which
was lined with small mango-trees. Even here the boy
had something to say; he pointed to two of these and
told me one " not good, the other good." When I asked
how he knew he explained that a mango-tree with 1nuch
flower never bears good fruit, and one of these was
covered with the spiky seeded blossoms. There were
many mimosa plants which curled up at a touch and
mimosa-like trees which were looking quite withered,
having drooped for the night-time. Then we passed
the village women carrying up water from the river 1n
2 I
chatties, and enjoying gossip ; it was funny to note how
the one small boy among them asserted his manhood by
carry his chatty on the shoulder, like a man, not on the
head like a woman.
When we left Magwe we came soon after to 1\1 inhla,
where there is the historic fort taken by the English in
1885. The place had an especial interest for me as a
cousin of mine, a mere boy, was the only officer killed
at that skirmish. The wall of the fort runs along by
the river on a height, and is seamed by great cracks,
bushes and thick grass crown it, growing luxuriantly,
and a mass of dark greenery droops over one corner. No
one is allowed to go inside now as it is not safe, and the
crumbling walls might fall and bury them. There was
an open-air market at Minhla and several pagodas, the
central and tallest of which had a golden spire. But
the most interesting sight of all was the landing of a
marble image of the Buddha brought by the steamer, the
gift of a wealthy Burman to the shrine. The image was
swathed in cloths and laid on its back and dragged across
from the steamer by the narrow plank gangway.
Men and women coolies alike left their loads of kutch
and flew to help in such a work of merit, and there was
much shouting and hoo-ing and chattering, while poor
Buddha, looking as if he were strangled by the rope
round his neck, was slowly drawn across. The glorious
morning light made it a brilliant scene. There were
many better-class men come down to meet the image,
and they were clad in gay pink silk turbans and putsoes,
among them the owner himself, so that the scene was
much brighter than the ordinary everyday one.
THE CHARM OF THE IRRAWADDY �.51
The Buddha was dragged to a certain height up the
cliff-like bank, and no amount of pushing or pulling
could stir him higher, so he was set up on end, and the
cloths removed, and there he sat, a very dignified and
disdainful figure, with the sunlight shining on his smooth
satiny arms, while he was surrounded by an eager and
reverential crowd. If I had not been expressly told, I
might have thought he was of alabaster, so fine was the
grain of the veined marble from which he was hewn. I
wanted the owner to sit beside his gift so that I could
include him in a photo, but he was too big a man for
that, he waved grandly with his weather-stained umbrella
to others of his friends to act proxy for him while the
deed was done. l\1asses of pickled tea, to be used at the
ceremony of installation, were also put ashore, and the
festival promised to be a gay one. I wished I could have
stayed to see it.
Below Minhla the river scenery is distinctly 1nore
varied and interesting than above, and the coast is
broken and wooded, and not so flat. We saw many
splendid specimens of rafts a hundred feet in length or
more, with men poling them slowly up stream in the
baking sun, wearing only the merest rag of clothing,
but generally some turban or cloth on their heads.
Allanmyo is a large place with many mills, s01ne of
them saw-mills, others for making oil-cake from cotton ,
and the cotton waste, thrown into a brazier, being itself
oily, is much used at nights to give a good flaring light.
I started off with the boy for a walk, almost as soon as
we arrived. The place was well cared for, with street
lamps, and wide roads cutting each other at right angles
and appearing less dusty than usual. There were several
pagodas scattered about, near which as usual the sweet
frangipanni grew on brown stems, for the leaves come
later. The boy secured me some of the flowers, from
which a sticky milky juice like that of a dandelion oozes.
In one shrine was an immense figure of the Buddha,
and when I went in to see it an old man came up to act
as guide. He told me long stories about it, none of which,
even with the help of the boy's translation, could I
understand, but as he had taken some trouble I gave
him a two-anna bit when we went away. He rushed at
me so promptly and gesticulated so wildly that I thought
he would have slain me for insulting him by so small a
tip, so I asked the boy : "Does he think it not enough ? "
Chinna's solemn face seldom relaxed into a smile, but it
did now as he answered, "He is praying to God for you,
l\1issie, praying, praying, praying, he bless you-he pray
you to go to England and come back, praying, praying
a great deal." So vehement was the old man's joy, that I
could hardly believe all this was for the sake of twopence.
"He buy candles now," went on the boy, "he burn them
here, he pray more, always pray for you, Missie."
Even as we passed down the street we saw the old
fellow beckoning to the passers-by and displaying his
coin between his finger and thumb, and pointing wildly
to my retreating figure, and all for the sake of twopence !
It was the cheapest purchase I ever made I There is
a great bund, quite good enough for cycling on, which
runs from Prome to Allanmyo, and ends in a creek
where there was once a formidable fort ; we turned on
to this on our way back, but we had walked far and it
THE CHARM OF THE IRRAWADDY 9l53
was quite dark before we reached the steamer. Never
theless we found work going on in full swing, girls, even
quite small ones, carrying sacks of cotton by the light
of the flaring cotton waste. I was told that these girls
were not paid like ordinary coolies, but so much a sack,
and thus they worked fast. It seemed very hard work
for such small things, but they laughed and chattered
and enjoyed themselves all the time ; truly these women
are wonderful. I saw one woman with two full chatties,
one on the top of another, come up from the river one
day and a baby was seated astride her hip!
And then, alas! on the morrow we arrived at Prome
at four o'clock, beneath a blazing sun, and I had to say
good-bye to the happy days on the boat, days which had
glided past so serenely that all care seemed to have
floated away from me. I had to turn and face the train
once more, and Rangoon, and the prospect of a real and
sad farewell. The landing was difficult, across long
planks resting on ridges of rock, and it took six men
or so they said-to carry my big box over to the station ;
as I watched them progressing slowly I smiled to
remember that one woman had carried it on her head
quite gaily at Sagaing. I always left the boy to wrestle
with the coolies as to backsheesh, a plan that saved me
infinite trouble, and when they bothered me I sent them
to him, and then he told me what he had paid. Native
disciplinarians will say that of course I paid a great
deal more that way, I might be sure some stuck to his
hands. Well, perhaps a small percentage did, but so
long as the whole was reasonable, and I took good care
of that, I found this plan infinitely the best.
I sent him to the station with the things, while I
went to the dak bungalow there to rest and feed, as tht
train for Rangoon did not leave till nine-thirty. It wa�
very hot, and I was tired and dirty ; I wanted a room t
wash in. On arrival I found quite the most dilapidate
and tumble-down shanty I had yet seen in that capacity.
A mud floor, level with the mud outside, a square tabl
thereon, a screen, beyond which the washing-up went on,
walls of badly put together wood, whitewashed roughly,
like the poorest settlers' hut, and four outside staircases
leading up to the bedrooms above. I asked the derwan,
a huge man, black as a boot, where I could wash. He
understood a little English, and pointed up one staircase;
thither I went, to find at the top on the narrow verandah,
a half-caste woman, two natives, and a white man squat
ting together on the floor. I pushed past to the door,
which opened into a dark and noisome room, with
unmade beds and other signs of occupation. I went
down in a rage, and asked the derwan how he could
have been such a fool as to send me there. At last he
explained humbly, "Those genlemen not living there,
only lady, other bed in that room for you!" I think
he was surprised to find I did not assent to this
ingenious arrangement. I explained I did not want a
bed, luckily, only a place in which to clean up, then after
noon tea, and dinner later. He took me thereupon to the
other side of the bungalow, and up that staircase, into
a small shed bath-room, of the kind usual in these places;
this opened into a bedroom occupied by a white man,
who was lying full length on a deck-chair and smoking ;
it was evidently his dressing-room. The derwan made
a frantic attempt to close the rickety doors between
and failed, so he said to the owner of the room, who had
preserved an immovable composure throughout the
trying scene, "Genlemen much obliged not going in
there lady washing," and retired. I did manage to wash
certainly, but it was precipitately. My blowing-up had
done the derwan good; he hustled about and gave me
of his best; the tea was not bad and the butter was
washed. Having ordered dinner, and the boy having
returned, I sauntered out to look at the largest and
finest pagoda in the place.
It certainly is a magnificent building, the only one I
saw comparable with the Shwe Dagon. But it lacks
the growth, the ripeness of years which so sanctifies that
jewel among ipagodas. It is too new and cleaned up
and much too gaudy. The entrance is steeper, it runs
beneath a succession of pyathats of marvellous carved
wood, most of it black, from having been oiled, but
some a rich red. These have zinc roofs, but they do not
jar on one, as the high edges of the pinnacles and para
pets hide them.
This fine ascent leads upward to a great golden
pyramid surrounded by lesser white pyramids arising
amid a grove of greenery upon which one looks down.
The situation is indeed unsurpassable. The pagoda
stands on a boss from which roll away valleys filled with
feathery palms and other tropical vegetation, and the
scene impresses one much more with a sense of mystery
than does the openness around the Shwe Dagon. From
the platform the hills beyond the river can be seen, and
the glint of the blue water between. There are great
numbers of sacred bells, and as the people passing roun
constantly strike them, there is a sweet rather melan
choly succession of different tones ringing in the air.
Many of the surrounding shrines on the platform are of
the same wonderful carved work as the entry, but there
is a difference among them, some of them are really
good, others show signs of modern haste and deteriora
tion. At each corner is an ugly square brick pillar of
great height, a sort of caricature of a sacred column,
and around the base of the central pagoda amid numerous
little gilded shrines, are little golden trees adorned with
coloured glass balls like Christmas trees. As a
example of Burman taste in the gaudy it is especially
interesting, and even with all the overloaded tawdriness
the mighty pagoda in its fine position is very fascinating.
The boy admired it greatly. His feelings were to
much for him, and he ventured to say it was better
than the Shwe Dagon. Afterwards we passed down
another approach between huge leogryphs, one chewing
a tiger in its 1nouth, a bit of realistic sculpture I had
not seen before.
We went on into the groves around, where were many
poongyi choungs. These quiet groves, with the peace
of a perpetual Sunday lying in them, always pleased
me. We came out down a deserted street where the
small huts were partially wrecked, and cooking utensils,
bedding, &c., lay in heaps in the road.
I asked Chinnasawmy the meaning of this, and was
told it was the plague ; the people had all been cleared
out only two days ago. For myself it was all right.
Europeans only in the rarest cases catch plague, and
S.\CKS or :1-10:,;1(lcY-KUTS .\T i\1.\G\\'i•: (p. 2+7)
'.J.3
HI·:.\ DY TU ST.\HT
THE CHARM OF THE IRRA WADDY Q57
when I inquired if he were not afraid, he cheerfully
replied : " Only English make fuss about plague, Missie ;
native, him never mind."
Then there was the night journey, the arrival in

Rangoon, the few days there, in which there was so
much to do and see I had no time to feel melancholy,
and then the good-byes, the launch down the river,
the big steamer, and that night in my bunk the horrible
feeling that I was leaving all the dear delights of a
country which had seemed in many ways so native to
me that I could not believe I had never been there
before. The ways, the people, the country itself, I
knew it all and loved it, and it was like breaking num
berless little strings to wrench away from it. They say
that beyond all countries you hear Bunna a-calling, and it
is named the Land of Regrets because people who have
been there are never the same afterwards ; there lives in
their hearts always a tiny ache of regret for the land
they have left.
2K
EPILOGUE
WE passed down the muddy waters of the Rangoon
river, the flat green shores grew grey with distance, and
Burma faded out of sight. Those who like may stop
here; that is the end of Burma, but to me as a kind of
epilogue, a softening of the hard parting, came Ceylon,
with its other interests and other beauties. This chapter
may quite well be skipped, but if it is only to heighten
the picture that has gone before by comparison and
contrast, I put it in.
My original impressions of Colombo were not dimmed
on return. Happy he who can carry the memory of it
with him as his first sight of an Eastern city ! I spent
but one night here this time, going up-country the next
day to stay with a lady who had come out on the
Cltesltire with me from England. She had written to
invite me while I was in Burma, so when I landed on a
Monday I sent a wire saying I would turn up the next
day. The address was Mousagalla, Matale, and in the
innocence of my heart I imagined that Mousagalla was
the name of a house in Matale ; little did I wot of the
habitats of tea-planters I We left Colombo at 7 A.M.
and arrived at Matale, after changing at Kandy, about
12.30 midday. I inquired of the station-master the
whereabouts of Mousagalla, and received the rather
CEYLON 259
disquieting reply: "Ten miles away; five you can drive,
but five you must walk."
"Walk! Surely I can get a bullock-cart? "
., No bullock-cart goes there, it is up a mountain," I
was assured. "But," the man added as an afterthought,
" if your friend knows you are coming, perhaps she will
send down coolies to carry you up I "
This prospect seemed on the whole one degree worse
than the first.
"But the box? " I feebly asked.
"Oh, they carry that, carry anything," he replied.
I went over to the rest-house, which I found a much
more furnished place than its counterpart the dak
bungalow of Burma, and had lunch, and rested, and told
Chinna to transfer what I should want for the night
from my box into a Japanese basket, and ordered a
trap.
Coming from Burma, everything in Ceylon strikes one
as much civilised. There are good roads all over, quite
fit for bicycling or motoring. The railway porters wear
dark blue uniforms, trousers and jacket, with round caps;
if they do have bare feet and little chignons sticking out
behind their heads, that does not detract from the
respectability of their appearance. English is spoken
everywhere. Some of the rest-houses are almost like
hotels, with copies of the Spectator on the table, not
much older than the copies one finds in seaside hotels in
England. There are pictures on the walls, and wall
paper. I was quite embarrassed at my first entrance
into one of this sort, and thought I must have got into
a private house by mistake. The rest-house at Matale
�60 EPILOGUE
is not quite of this magnificent type, but it is well kept.
A very decent trap, drawn by a horse which looked like
a giraffe to my eyes, accustomed to the ponies of Burma,
appeared according to order, and we started off leaving
the heavy luggage at the station.
I had been told much of the beauty of Ceylon, and
certainly had seen most wonderful ranges of hills coming
up from Colombo.
For most of the way the railway runs along a ledge or
terrace hewn out of the side of the hill, with great
valleys and glorious blue heights to see in all directions.
The line winds about, climbing ever higher and higher,
so you get one point of view after another. The wild
flowers too are very pretty: the leopard's-bane, the
yellow daisy I had seen in Burma grew in profusion ;
and a little vermilion flower called the lantana, which
has a berry not unlike a blackberry. was a perfect weed.
There was a dining-car on the train too, where one could
get quite a decent lunch, a vast improvement on the
hurried meal at the stopping-places in Burma. l\iany
of the railway stations were quite English in their
neatness, with English flowers growing in them. In one
I saw petunias, heliotrope, roses, larkspur, lupins, peonies,
and many other English flowers all growing together.
But the fine jungle, the tropical plants, the tree-ferns I
had expected-of these 1 saw nothing.
The road we went on to Mousagalla was exceptionally
good and not very hilly ; we had to stop to pay at a toll
bar half way. Then we arrived, after passing the fifth
milepost, at a. place where a winding path led away
amid trees, and pointing with his whip to a high hill
CEYLON �61
blue in the distance, the native driver informed me,
" That's where you go."
No sign of a coolie was there. Evidently my tele
gram had not been received, or my friends were away;
the latter might well be the case, for it was about six
weeks since they had sent me the invitation and I had
not been able to find out at the post-office in Matale if
they were at home.
"Can you get a coolie?" I asked the driver. He
seemed to think so, and went to a few rough huts a little
further on, returning presently with a lean, lithe lad
about sixteen.
"Can he carry all those things up there ? " I asked�
looking at the basket, which was of a good size, my
bundle of rugs, and my boy's bundle, as well as my
handbag. I was assured that the whole was nothing.
So we started. The coolie went first with most of the
things on his head, walking with an elastic step, and the
boy followed with my handbag. I brought up the
rear. ,ve had not gone many yards before the driver
ran frantically after us, crying out, "Lady, lady, there's
a river to cross, you'll have to take of your --."
f
V.T ords failed him.

I inquired if we should meet any lions and tigers on
the road, and whether it would not be wiser to take
a gun, and the man went back grinning. "V\re soon
encountered that river. It was not very formidable,
as there had not been much rain recently. The boy
carried my shoes and stockings and went first, to prove
the dangers of the ford. When I saw the water did
not reach his knees I followed. Then we begap our
EPILOGUE
climb. It was all uphill, and as it was about three in
the afternoon that kind of entertainment was not pre
cisely what one would have chosen ; the perspiration
streamed down my neck so continuously that at last I
ceased to trouble about it. After walking what seemed
an immense distance, having risen higher and higher, so
that the hills across the valley opened out and gave us
gracious views, I thought of resting and was going to
sit on a convenient lump of dried mud, when the boy
stopped me hastily, telling me it was an ant's nest. I
gingerly selected a likely log, and a snake glided oqt
from under it ! After this I stood, but told the boy to
inquire if we were about half way. He asked the coolie,
who had no word of English, and the answer was,
" Come very little way, Missie ; got great deal much
more way to go."
I put my back into it and went on. "Te came pre
sently to a clearing, and I recognised the low-growing
ugly tea-scrub, though I had never seen it before.
Little paths, always steep and always stony, wound
zigzag through it ; we climbed and climbed throughout
the afternoon. At that time I did not recognise the
other products of the estate, the many-fingered leaves
of the dainty young rubber trees, or the great bulbs of
the cocoa plants. I had these pointed out to me
afterwards. Rubber-growing is spreading extensively
in Ceylon, often in conjunction with tea, and many
planters grow a little of most things, pepper, areca,
cardamoms, and coffee as well.
Every now and then I called a halt and rested awhile,
and for the most part the springy young thing who
CEYLON �63
carried my baggage stood meantime disdaining to put
down his load. Luckily a cloud or two now and then
veiled the sun, and as we climbed the views were so
stupendous that I enjoyed myself extremely. Still we
went on until when we stopped for a minute, even the
coolie was tired and lay down on the path beside the
boy, a little higher up than I was. I could hear their
voices talking gently and I nearly went to sleep.
But darker it grew and darker, and at last a few drops
of rain began to fall. It would be too bad to get wet
here in a country where one imagined that fear to be
eliminated at least from the evils one had to encounter.
So we moved upwards once more. At length it seemed
to me we could not go much higher, or we should be
over the top of the mountain and down the other side.
Then the coolie said something, and the boy interpreted ;
" Says he don't know where it is, Missie I "
I contemplated eating the last bit of chocolate I had
in my bag before I laid down to spend the night on the
tea-scrub, but I said : " Put down the things." They
put them down obediently in the middle of the path.
"Now go and find out, both of you," and they departed
in different directions. They returned presently and
pointing to a cliff-like height overhead, said it was up
there, so we climbed again, a last stiff struggle, and
came out on to a clearing, with a lawn of beautiful
emerald green turf, covered with huge scarlet cannas
and poinsettias, in the midst of which was set a
bungalow. My host, or so I guessed him to be, was
hastily nailing up the window curtains in my room, and
he shouted out to his wife, "Here's the good lady, and
fl64 EPILOGUE
she's wallced I" in a tone which sufficiently appraised
the value of my feat. They had got my telegram half
an hour before, as they sent a peon down for letters
each day, and he had brought it up with him. On
receipt of it a native had been sent flying down the hill
with a bamboo chair to carry me up, but as he had
crashed straight-way and we had mostly followed the
paths, he had missed us. When I saw the bamboo
chair I was not sorry.
I was quite fresh, and the air at that height was so
beautiful that one could not be long tired. But I was
glad I was under shelter, for presently down came the
rain as I had never heard it before, and ceased not the
whole of the evening, I thought I knew something
about rain, having travelled extensively in Scotland,
but I felt that all I had met previously had been but a
drizzle, here it was solid. The blue views, bright in the
sunshine next morning, and the peeps between a fore
ground of royal red cannas, were as fine as anything I
had seen, and the whole place had a most invigorating
atmosphere. When my time came to go I rode down
the precipitous descent with regret, and as I had found
that an old friend lived in Matale, I stayed a night with
her before going on to Nuwara Eliya, pronounced for
some inexplicable reason Neuralia.
This section of the line I was disappointed with, it
may once have been magnificent, but the monotonous
rows of tea-scrub running over every height detract
much from the beauty of contour. Close to Nuwara Eliya
is a mighty hill still covered with the primitive jungle,
which shows you what the country must have been at
D11·1.l.l.l·. l;s lff r111: l(l\·1.:1;-sJl>L
·'
Ml:-IIIL.\ f()I{'(' lj>. 25,J

CEYLON 265
one time. Nuwara Eliya is very like some parts of
Scotland, and it may be charming to live in, but from
the point of view of one eager for new sensations it is
desperately uninteresting, being entirely English.
When I left I spent a night at the Peridenya rest
house, near Kandy, and inspected the famous botanical
gardens. I visited Kandy the next morning but found
little to see, and finally met the two friends, with wh01n
I was going to leave Chinnasaw1ny, at a junction called
by the beautiful name of Polgawhela, and went with
them to the most intensely interesting spot in Ceylon,
the " buried " city of Anradhapura.
Northward we travelled up the new single line
recently made, on and on through miles of monotonous
flat country, sometimes wide and open, with gleaming,
low-lying reaches of water, at others closely hemmed in
by wild jungle-growth. The dusk came on and the
stars came out. At length, in the sweet-scented warmth
of a glorious night, we pulled up at nine o'clock at the
small station where we were to get out. \Ve hired a
tiny pony-cart, driven by a scantily clothed man with a
very honest expression, and all crammed in, leaving the
boy to bring the things on to the rest-house by bullock
cart. I shall never forget that drive ; the warmth of
the evening was perfect, not too oppressive, the stars
gleamed brilliantly through the feathery trees that
overhung the road, and the fire-flies shining like points
of electric light danced beside us. At length high up,
barring the way as it seemed, seen between the avenue
of trees, rose a mighty conical hill overgrown with
vegetation and outlined on the blueness of the moonlit
2 L
�66 EPILOGUE
sky. It was one of the monuments of a bygone age that

we had come to see. We could hardly believe that this
was really the work of man's hands ap.d not a natural
hill. As it turned out to be almost outside the gates of
the rest-house it was the one of all the monuments we
grew to know and love the best. Imagine a symmetrical
hill between two and three hundred feet high, made of
solid brick, and so old that the trees, and grass, and soil
have overlaid it like jungle. The form of it is said to
be "as a bubble of water resting on a liquid surface."
This is the famous Ruanveli dagoba, built by King
Dutugemini about B.c. 160, and there, not far from it,
lies the uptilted slab of granite on which the dying king
was laid so that his closing eyes might light their last on
his proudest monument.
It is quite impossible to describe the wonders of this
City of Seventy Kings. The best of it is one is free to
wander anywhere, there are few European visitors, the
place is unspoiled by guides and crowds. The ruins
cover acres and acres of ground. There are several
dagobas scattered at various distances resembling Ruan
veli in form, and most of them have, as it has, a flat
causeway of hewn granite blocks, wide enough for six ele
phants to walk abreast, running round them. Stretches
of park-like ground covered with short grass lie near,
and in the glorious light of a tropical moon we three
linked arms and wandered over the warm turf amid
the shadows of the trees ; we were, I must confess,
terribly afraid of snakes, but the event justified the risk.
We passed on to a smaller dagoba glistening like
marble in the moonlight ; this is Thuparama, the oldest
CEYLON �67
of all the monuments. It was built in B.c. 307 to
enshrine the right jaw of the Buddha, "which, descend
ing from the skies, placed itself upon the crown of the
monarch's head." In spite of this signal relic Thuparama
is not so i1npressive as the others, being so much smaller,
more of the type of the ordinary Burmese pagoda; it
is coated by chunam, a kind of white cement, and cer
tainly in the moonlight this adds greatly to its charm.
On every side lie fallen or upright columns of granite
with carved capitals as fresh as when they were done
two thousand years ago. In the daylight we hired the
small pony cart which had brought us from the station,
and drove from one mighty sight to another, we visited
Jetawarana a stupendous pile of masonry clothed,· like
Ruanveli, with a growth of vegetation, which has here
and there broken fr01n its roothold and fallen, showing
layers upon layers of red brick; at the sum1nit, still
erect in its hoary age, is a pointing finger in the shape
of a brickwork tower. The platform around the base of
the dagoba is overgrown with trees and bushes, which
have burst up between the joints of the stone work,
little paths run here and there and among them birds
sing sweetly, and butterflies with bodies almost as big
as birds flutter gaily in the sunshine. Bits of ruined
capitals and other carving lie about half buried in the
tangle of rank-growing weeds and bush.
But we did not see only dagobas, we saw also tanks
like Roman baths, with steps descending into them,
having grey shadows on their carved balustrades,and lying
deserted save for a tiny yellow-backed tortoise which
walked away with dignity into the grass.
�68 EPILOGUE
,ve saw wide reaches of water like inland seas edged
with green mounds or bunds, all artificial. We saw
one thousand six hundred hewn columns set so thickly
that hardly had one room to pass between, these were
once the famous Brazen Palace, where nine roofs covered
with brazen tiles had towered toward the burning sky.
We saw, most wonderful of all, the sacred Bo-tree,
grown, so tradition says, from a branch of the sacred Bo
tree under which the Lord Buddha received revelation ;
brought from India by a princess and planted in
B.c. 245, the oldest historical tree in the world, and as
the legend says : "always green, never growing or
decaying." Whatever its origin, the copious references to
it in chronicles of many centuries give it a right to an
indisputable claim of over two thousand years of age. It
was evening time when we approached. The entrance
is by granite steps polished by the bare feet of countless
generations, and carved with wonderful figures of ele
phants and horses in procession round what is called
the moonstone, or projecting slab before the actual
steps. Outside men sat and sold sweet flowers to be
offered in reverence. Arranged in little cardboard
saucers, so that they looked like one great blossom, was
a central pink lotus with an array of white frangipanni
around.
The low wall, black-red with age, that runs around
the first court, is guarded by tall growing palms. Up
through the broken pavement within, spring many small
ho-trees, offspring of the parent stem. Groups of
natives sat around gleaming fires which caught the
bright fabrics of their dress in weird lights. Up yet
GE LO 269
other steps all broken and dilapidated we went, to
another terrace, and then above our heads we saw the
gnarled and crooked branches of the ancient tree.
Very few leaves were there on it, and when one
fluttered down a zealous pilgrim hastened to pick it up
as a precious relic. They are like the leaves of the
balsam-poplar, but the terminal spike is much longer.
The tree is old and straggly without grandeur of size or
proportion, but enc01npassed about with the reverence of
generations past numbering, and as we stood there over
shadowed by those hoary branches and drank in all the
weird beauty of the scene, the warm orange light of the
sunset, against which the line of tall palms showed black,
while the monkeys leaped from bough to bough looking
like little black demons; and as the delicate scents of the
floral offerings were wafted around us, and the slow chant
of the devotees came to our ears, something of the awe
and veneration which inspired the worshippers crept into
our hearts. I felt I could not come again next day in
the full blaze of the blatant sunshine, I must always
remember it, always see it, as I saw it then, while the
mystery of the evening deepened around it.
In comparison with this everything else paled in
interest, and it is a fitting end-after a journey amid the
ancient civilisation of peoples to whom our generations
are but as the growth of field grass-to pause beside the
roots of the sacred Bo-tree.
INDEX
ACACIA trees, 106 Botanical Gardens, Colombo, 18

Adventure, Life of, 86 Bougainvillea, 21, 121, 135
Afghans, 154 Box-wallah, 70, 183
Allanmyo, 251 Boy, native, 3, 111
Amarapura, 120, 149 Brahminical duck, 33
Amherstia, 81 Brahmins, 225
Anradhapura, 265 Buddha, the, 31, 57, 65, 96
Ants, White, 224, 229 Bullock carts, 27, 92
Arakan Pagoda, 140 Bullocks, 233
Areca Palm, 105 Burial-ground, Burmese, 63
Ataran, river, 62, 91 Burman hospitality, 99
Ayah, 44 Bnrmese, the, 104
Burmese boats, 101, 230
BABU, the, 132, 181, 196 " Burial-ground, 63
Bamboos, 175 " Children, 214, 233, 244
Bathing, 232 " Costume, 36
Bath-rooms, 42 " Finery, 207
Bath-towels, 118, 216 " lfood, 75
Bats, 97 " House, 51
Bazaar, Mandalay, 147 " Jewellery, 52, 58
Bazaar, Moulmein, 72 " Ladies, 47
Bell-pagoda, 162 ,, Manners, 59
Bbamo, 157 " Music, 212
,, Dak Bungalow, 159 " Offerings, 107, 207
,, Joss-house, 167 " Slioes, 244
Bibby Line, 3, 5 " Silk, 66, 70, 119, 147
Big Lakes, Rangoon, 27 " Stations, 150
Birds, 23, 161, 183 ,, Titles, 47
Bo-tree, 268 ,, Trades, 141
Boats, Burmese, 101, 230 ,, Villages, 227, 230
Boats, Chittagonian, 100, 105 Burmese War, First, 40
Bombay Burma Trading Corporation, Burmese War, Second, 137
81 Burmese War, Third, 117
INDEX
0ACTUS, 249 Defile, Middle, 1, 149, 155
Oannas, 21 Defile, Upper, 175
Oanoes, dug-out, 176 Desert, the, 12
Oape St. Vincent, 7 Dhobi, 45
Cargo, 238, 247 Dhursi, 46
Caves, Farm, 96 Diamonds, 52
Caves, Stalactite, 98 Dug-out canoes, 176
Ceylon, 259
,, Civilisation of, 259 ECLIPSE OF MOON, 205
Chaik-To, 104 Eclipse of Sun, 151
Cheroots, 59 Education, 79
"Cheshire," the, 4 Elephants, 83
Children, Burmese, 104, 214, 233, 244 Elephant grass, 105
" China, Road to," 160 Elephant-stealing, 83
" China,'' the, 224 Etna, 9
Chindwin, 235 Eurasians, 115, 132
Chinese, the, 77,!92, 162, 168, 194, 239
Chinese Marriage, 80 FARM CAVES, 91
,, Woman, 166 Ferry-boat, 154
Chinnasawmy, 110, 125, 164, 195, 200 Festival, Maymyo, 206
Chino-Burmans, 158 Finery, Burmese, 207
Ohittagonian boat, 100, 105 Fishing, 174
Chonzon, 100 Flats or barges, 225
Chota Hazri, 22 Flowers, 121, 188
Choungs, 145, 243 Food, Burmese, 75
Christmas Day, 47 Forest Work, 87
Circuit House, 126, 128 Frangipanni, 123, 252, 268
,, ,, Maymyo, 199 French language, 112
Colombo, 16, 258 Funeral, Hindu, 39
., Galle Face, the, 18
,, Botanical Gardens, the, 18 GALLE FACE, the, Colombo, 18
Cooking-pots, 173 Gangall tree, 105
Coolie girls, 234, 248 Gautama's tooth, 146
Coolie work, 239 Gay Scenes, 129
Coolies, 253 Gharry, ticca, 23
Oorringhees, 81 Gibraltar, 8
Costume, Burmese, 36 Goitre, 166
Crowds, 241 Gokteik Gorge, 189, 192
Golden City, the, 125
DAGOBAS, 266 Golden Monastery, 144
Dak Bungalow, Bhamo, 159 Government House, Maymyo, 205
Dak Bungalow, Mandalay, 126 Government House, Rangoon, 21
Dak Bungalow, Prome, 254 Green limes, 227
Dancing, 213, 219 Gulf of Martaban, 40
INDEX �73
Gymkhana Club, Rangoon, 27 Lyungi-making, 243
HEAT, The, 26 MAGWE, 247

Herefordshire,'' The, 5 Mah Kin Le, 52, 58
Hindu funeral, a, 39 Mah Mya Hnit, 58
Hotels, 127 Mah Sbwe Bwin, 47
Hours of meals, 43 Mandalay, 125
House, Burmese, 51 ,, Bazaar, the, 147
Hpon, The, 177 ,, Circuit House, 126, 128
" Husbands' boat," The, 17 ,, Fort, 131
Hill, 129
INCOMPARABLE PAGODA, 140 " King's House, 135
Indaw, the (launch), 172 " Palace, 134
Indian native, 24 " Moat, 129
Insect pests, 88 Shore, 222
Irrawaddy, the, 120, 154, 173, 224 :Mango-tree, 249
Irrawaddy Flotilla Company, 148, Manners, Burmese, 59
221, 224 Marionettes, 217
Marriage, 53
JEWELLERY, Burmese, 52, 58 ,, Chinese, 80
Juggling, 208 Marseille5, 8
Jungle, 153 Martaban, Gulf of, 40
Jungle Flowers, 190 Massacres, 133
Jungle life, 85 Matale, 258
11 Rest-house, 259
KACHINS, 165 Maymyo, 188, 199
Kado, 104 ,, Circuit House, 199
Kandy, 265 ,, Festival, 206
Katha, 153 ,, Government House, 205
Kerosene tins, 42 Meals, hours of, 43
Kokine, 27 Mengohn, 148
Kutho-daw, 139 Messina, Straits of, 9
Mindon Min, King, 33, 123, 13i
LADIES, Burmese, 47 Minhla, 250
Lantana, the, 260 Mon Race, 116
Lascars, the, 7, 231, 238 Monkey-nuts, 247
Laterite, 93 Monks or poongyis, 33
Leeches, 85 Moon, Eclipse of the, 205
Leopard's bane, 106, 260 Mossos Men, 186
Limes, green, 227 Moulmein, 40, 61
Loofah sponge, 249 Bazaar, 72
Lotus, 129, 268 pagoda, 64
Lotus land, 227 ,, pagoda bells, 64
Lyungi, the, 36 " Salween Park, 41
2 M
�74 INDEX
Moulmein-continued Papya fruit, 103
,, Shrine at, 55 Parawoon, 144
,, Street Life, 68 Pariah dogs, 227
,, Sunsets, 66 Pariah puppies, 106
,, White pagoda,the, 65 Parsees, 194
Moung Api, 54 Passengers, 6
Moung Ba, 53 Peaceful days, 228
Moung Lu Poe, 134 Pegu, 116
Moung Nyun, 35 Peridenya rest-house, 265
Mousagalla, 260 Petroleum wells, 237
Music, Burmese, 212 Photography, difficulties of, 35, 67, 74
Musk Scent, 185 Plague, the, 256
Myitkhyina, 149, 159 Plants, wild, 249
Myohaung Junction, 117, 187 Poinsettias, 21, 121
Polgawhela, 265
NABA, 153 Poongyi choung, 77
Native, Indian, 24 Poongyis, or monks, 38, 94, 145
Native boy, 3, 111 Popa, Mt., 235
Native servants, 44, 114 Port Said, 9
Native village, 82 Post-Office, 133
Nats, 33, 57 Praying columns, 33
N'gape, 166 Prome, 253
Nisbet, John (quoted), 138 ,, Dak Bungalow, 254
Noise of the natives, 238 ,, Pagoda, 255
Nuns, 143 Putsoe, a, 37
Nuwara Eliya, 264 Pwes, 211
Nyaung-u, 236
QUEEN'S CHOUNG, 144:
OFFERINGS, Burmese, 207
Orchids, 55
Orphans, 241 RAILWAY, The, 119
Rain-fall, 81
PADDY, 247 Rangoon, 20
Paddy-fields, 116, 227 ,, Gymkhana Club, 27
Pagan, 236 ,. Big Lakes, 27
Pagoda, Moulmein, 64 ,, Kokine, 27
Pagoda, Incomparable, 140 ,, Government House, 21
Pagoda, Prome, 255 ,, Dalhousie Park, 22
Pagoda bells, 64 ,, Shwe Dagon, 28
Pagodas, 139 Rest-house, Matale, 359
Pagodas,ruined, 121 "Road to China," 160
Pakkoku, 235 Roads, 93
Palaungs, 2, 154 Rubber-growing, 262
INDEX �75
SADAW (Lying in State), 78 Tamarind trees, 121
Sagaing, 121, 149 '£amein, A, 36
Sagaing Hills, 122 Tarantula, 163
Salween, river, 86 Tattooing, 80, 239
Sampans, 105 Tea plantation, 262
Sandbank, a, 177,238 Teak, 85
Schwebo, 152 Telugu, a, 24, 112
Schwegu, 154 Theebaw, King, 137, 139
Scott, Sir J. G. (quoted), 29, 52, 78, Thieving, 202
139, 177, 236 "Thirty Caves," 122
Serang, the, 174, 178 Tiger-scare, 195
Servants, Native, 44, 114 Titles, Burmese, 47
Shan Hills, 129, 187 Toddy, 93
Shan States, 86 Trades, Burmese, 141
Shans, 158, 165 Trains, 115, 151
Shoes, Burmese, 244 Trees, 42
Shopping, 25 ,, Amherstia, 42
Shrine at Moulmein, 55 ,, Banyan, 42
Shrines, 33 ,, Gold Mohur, 42
Shropshire, the, 5 ,, Padouk, 42
Shway Dagone, 20, 28 ,, Teak, 42
Sierras of Spain, 8
Silks, Burmese, 66, 70, 119, 147 VEGETABLES, 76
Silleh-myo, 242 Village, native, 82
Sinbo, 177, 179 Village life, 102
Singing, 213 Villages, Burmese, 227, 230
Sirroomull, 70 Visiting, 49
Sleeping out, 12 Voyage, the, 4
S. P. G. Schools, 79
Spain, sierras of, 8 WAGES, 111
Stalactite cave, 98 White ants, 224, 229
Stations, Burmese, 150 White pagoda, the, 65
Steel Brothers, 159 Wild cotton, 190
Stores, 170 Wild plants, 249
Straits of Messina, 9 Wild plums, 240
Street Life, 68
Stromboli, 9 YENANGYAUNG, 237
Suez Canal, 10 "Young Burma," 48
Sun, Eclipse of, 151 Yule, Colonel (quoted), 123, 142
Sunsets, 66
ZEYATS, 95
TALAINGS, 84, 116 Zigon, 241
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A Bachelor Girl in Burma

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/\ F.\MII.\' C:l<OUI', MOUi.MEiN !p.

CONTAINING NINETY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS

IN explanation of the title, l must state that bachelor

II. THE SPICY-SMELLING EAST 16

VII. THE GOLDEN CITY 125

WHENEVER for a moment the rushing stream of concen­

are at perfect liberty to wear them if they choose, but

THE night before the steamer arrived at Colombo there

.'1 CHUPRASSIE OUTSIDE GOVERNME!'iT

/\ COl<Nl•:R IN THE SHWE 0.\Gt>N P/\GUIJ.\ (p. 33)

IN THE COURTS OF THE SHWE

SACRED UMHl!ELLAS, SHWE DAGON PAGODA

A GROUP (IF SHRINES, SHWE DAGON PAGODA

AcRoss the grey waters of the Gulf of Martaban, nearly

111.\J-I KIN LE .\NI> DAUGIITEI{ <p. 521

MAH SHWE BWI!-1

�1.\1-1 Sl!WI, H\\'IN AT Till·: IHHll(

Anything more gloomy and uncomfortable than a

T\\"0 RElTER-CLASS BURMESE GIRLS (f. 67)

M.\JN STHEJ·:T, .\IUUUIJilN

THE BOY AND THE BF.LL, OLD PAGOD . .\

SCENES IN 'J'J-JE l.ll'E OF TI-It HUDl>l-lA

THE Oriental cannot understand how any man, much

A BURMESE BURIAL PLACE, MOULMEll\"

MOUNG KA IN HIS BULLOCK CAl<T

NATIVE QUARTERS, MOULME!N

UNFII\ISJlr,:n l'.\GUIJA, Ml>UI.MEIN (l, 631

OUR COOLIE OUTSIDE THE H.\L\.�R

A FEMALE ELEPHANT OF THI,; B. B. T.

TAI.AIK<;s WITH '1'111-:11< 1£1.El'IL\NT

IN England, where one day might be June and the next

THE FARM CAVES, NEAR MOULMEIN

BIG BELL IN THE SHIVE OAG(>N

PLATFORM OF CHONZtlN PAGODA

wo�rnN AND BA BIES AT CJ )- 01'ZO:-.;

K/\DO, A MODEL VII.J./\Clc

SCE�E AT A RAILWAY STATION

MONSTER BUDDHA AT /\MARAPURA

MY first vision of Mandalay, the Golden City, was not

TH!c MOAT, MANDALAY

BRIDGE OVER THE MO.\T, Mi\NDAL,\Y

CHINN.·\S .-\11.MY IN DOORll·.\y OF Qlil·:l·::\'S

/I COURT IN THE PALACE, MANDALAY

. . . I. l' 1•ii1-. · \ I' T 111·: l)III I R 1 >F

THE KING'S HOUSE, MAND.\LJ\Y

'' Fresh massacres took place in the capital; bands of

TJJl{EJ•: 11.\GG.\l<I> Ul.ll :\l':\S

5. II. N1J 11olds

TIIE GOLDEN MU:\.\STl·:RY, M.\l\D . .\L.\Y

" T' , " Ids

BALLJSTRAllE ,\T THI•: GUI.DEN �l<ii'i.\STEJ{Y,

FRUl'l-SF.LLERS ,\T S.-\G,\ING

V\T E were not long in getting to Bhamo the next morn­

THE '' INLJAW" (p. 172)

LIGHT swathes of mist were still hanging over the wide

\\'.\ITJ;\C; FOR TIIE STE.\�IER ,\T

THI·: t.:l'l'ER DEFILE, IRJL·\\L\DI Y

l!IGH STl<lcC:T, S1NR0

POLICf�Ml':N AT TIFFIN, NAWNGHKIIIO

THE next scene finds me far from Bhamo. I had come

Capt. ')'. II. l:nors!.:ill, /.:.A .. If. C.

MAYMYO is a hill station; the pleasant bungalows are

,\T TIii·. FEST! 1· .\L, M .\ y � !\'()

THOl'GH I was only in Bunna a little over two 1nonths,

WHENEVER for a moment the rushing stream of concen

V\T E were not long in getting to Bhamo the next morn